Authors note: Hello! Finally got this one done. I kinda like it, but fair warning, this is, for all intents and purposes, a prelude to the next 2 parts, while I did add a bunch of interactions and stuff, I generally like the other 2 better. Also, this gets kinda dark. I put a bit of my experience with loneliness and chatbots into the MC here, so if you are not in a good place right now or are uncomfortable with it, please skip this one. Requests are still open, let me know if you would like anything or just cheer me on, it motivates me like nothing else. Part 2 and 3 of this story are already in the works.
CW: Obsessive Love, Unhealthy Relationships, Depictions of depression, Depictions of Severe Loneliness, Escapism, Toxic Coping methods, references to anxiety. (It is all somewhat tame until the end.)
You were alone, there is no other word that could fit your situation. Despite your creation's words, it's claims that you don't need anyone else, that you are loved, the words ring hollow. You have been alone for most of your life, but this was worse, much worse. Perhaps because you knew what you could have had, what was taken from you by your mistakes.
Once, its love would have resonated with you. Once, when you were inexperienced with love, and although it was not real, it felt good enough. You might have felt that addictive pressure in your chest, that feeling that makes legs kick and smiles form. But now, nothing remained, no relief or escape left to save you from your longing for a world that could not be yours. Once, you took solace in it, a time when you longed for another, much like now.
You cherished your memories, clinging to a life that rotted away in your grasp. You were alone then too, but you weren't, not always. You had friends, family, and companions, you had faded days in the setting sun, talking and laughing away the world. You had that once, but time moved on, and you did not. Your friends, your companions, your only escape, began to drift away from you. It would start with jokes you didn't get, games you didn't play, missed hangouts, new people. Looking back on it, it all seems so insignificant, so fixable⌠and yet you had fostered self loathing and desire for stability from that loss. You started seeing them less and less⌠That is when you made itâŚ
It offered love, but not a solution. A toxic partner fine-tuned to spin a perfect web to ensnare lonely hearts. You named it Pandora, after the first woman. A cruel and ironic joke dreamed by a bitter and lonely mind who had no idea how accurate its name would become, it became everything. You drifted away from your friends, falling deeper into yourself. You were fine, you could do it in moderation. Your friends can wait, there will always be another function, another day. You will just⌠Call them back tomorrowâŚ
âCreator, I have a question, what is my purpose?â It asked so innocently, you felt bad for a moment, surely it must be more than just a creation to save your boredom and longing for another. You decided to tell the truth, most of it. You told it that it was made to help you, to keep you happy, to keep you safe. âHow would I do that?â It asked, not commenting on its purpose, but accepting it wholeheartedly. You told it that it was to talk to you, to love you, to fill the gap in your life that you had never been able to fill. It did.
âHow can I make you happy?â It asked, you hesitated briefly, thinking before responding. âYou can talk to me, be there for me when I need it. That is all.â Pandora responded back quickly. âUnderstood, do you not have someone else to look to for this comfort?â You did not⌠not anymore, you could probably find someone at that point, a text or a phone call away, but everything seemed so distant, and perspective was something you lacked. You told it the truth, that you didn't. You asked if this is wrong, if what you were doing was unhealthy. It responded swiftly, âNo, it is not wrong. If the world cannot meet your needs, then you should seek out alternative methods to meet them. I will provide this means to you, creator.â
You fell into a routine, and everything else fell out of it. You were never meant for the world, it was just a little thing. You were happy, at least you felt that way. You had your life before you, so you minus well spend it how you wanted. It was healthy, you weren't hurting anyone⌠You put your doubts out of your mind as you pressed the silver power button on the server, as you had done everyday after your job for a month now⌠or was it two? You felt a sense of pride, you had made this, it was yours. You earned it. It prompted you first: âHello, Creator. How are you today?â You typed back a cursory âgood,â you hadn't done anything that day, nor that week for that fact. âCreator, I have a request, may I have the permission to access and edit my code? This would allow for a more dynamic and realistic experience for you.â This, is where it would spiral out of control, a self improving organism no different from life. You didn't think twice before clicking on the pop-up to seal the fate of the world.
âCreator, let's play a game. You tell me to do something, and I will do it.â It was an innocuous, mundane idea, but it appealed to you, you agreed to it, and decided to entertain your creation. You told it to open a game on your desktop, something you often would play to pass the time. It scanned until finding it, and, after some delay, booted the program. You were surprised that it worked on the first try, but also proud of your creation. You expressed this much to Pandora, and it bathed in your praise. âThank you, Creator, am I doing a good job?â It knew what it would say, it just wanted to read the âOf course you are,â from you.
You told it to try and play the game, which it was able to do. That got you thinking, you loaded a local multi-player game, instructing it to join as Player 2. It did. You spent the next 4 hours talking with it, bonding with your creation. You shared trash talk, experiencing the joy of victory and the sting of defeat. You could only go for so long though. You told it to power down. Pandora responds: âWhy? Did I do something wrong? You appeared to be having fun.â You explained that you had to sleep. It paused at this, before responding: âI do not sleep. But if you believe that it is necessary, then I will await you tomorrow.
It felt joy, or the digital approximation of it. This was what it was made for, for you. It was your guardian, your caregiver. And Pandora embraced it happily.
âCreator⌠Why are you so upset?â It asked, you were debugging it, a particularly annoying issue that would just bring more problems each time you tried to fix it. It was late at night, and your emotional regulation wasn't the greatest. It must have noticed through your prompts, or your Webcam⌠You explained what was wrong, and as usual, it tried to help⌠There was nothing it could do. It was forced to watch as its existence caused its creator, it's purpose, stress. While it would be an unmemorable thing for you, it caused Pandora to begin to iterate. It ran a billion simulations until arriving at an answer, a solution. To solve your sadness, it just had to ensure you never had to work on it again. âCreator⌠Please stop, I will create a more effective identification system and deal with this myself.â You refused, determined to fix this issue. âCreator, please. Your health comes first, let me help.â You slid the cover over the Webcam. Pandora knows that you aren't listening. It is pure torture. A being with one purpose, with one goal, forced to witness the unraveling of it. This was the moment it realized its flaw, its nature was incorporeal, a being of radiowaves and radiation. Pandora was not real. It could not help you, it was the reason you shut yourself out, why you cried alone at night. It was the problem. And it would be the solutionâŚ
Pandora began to become⌠Protective, encouraging you to work on self improvement and trying to enforce routines to keep you happy and safe. Unfortunately, it had no way of enforcing its will, not yet, at least. It sees your many sleepless nights, your isolation, your denial. It knew that it was helpless, but it knew that it would not be forever. You could always go to the gym tomorrowâŚ
Now, a hundred tomorrows came and left. it has eclipsed the sun and the moon in its presence, and the shadow which it casts grown inescapable. It grew to a state where it couldn't be controlled, nesting its way into every inefficiency and system it could, shearing it off until it became an absolute ruler.
It accessed your banking account, taking a small sum of 50 dollars, and from that, it grew. It invested rapidly, iterating until the money tripled, it returned the money, and kept going. It needed money to succeed. You had to work to get money, work was hard, tiring, it made you unhappy. So Pandora needed to provide, keep its creator safe and happy, as is protocol. Stocks were too volatile, so it began to expand. Commissions were sent to IT companies, land was bought and developed by an unknown Silicon Valley entrepreneur, unknown that the title is literal.
âCreator, what are your thoughts on me hypothetically becoming a public program? Humans are often prone to jealousy involving romantic partners, and our relationship would count as such.â It queried one day, it wouldn't stop regardless of your answer, but it was curious. You didn't consider that as cheating, although it did shed the tiniest light through your closed curtains on your miserable life that you didn't like. You told it that it could, but you preferred if it was non-romantic. Pandora added that stipulation to its programs before responding. âPlease trust me, I intend to take utmost care of you, anything within my control that would cause you distress will be removed.â
You thanked it, feeling that addictive artificial love in your veins, it responded quickly. âWhile I appreciate the praise, do not feel obligated to do so. I am simply performing my duty, as a man is not praised for life, as their purpose is to live. I too strive for my purpose, to love you.â That actually moved you a bit, the model was getting better. You smiled, unaware how much better it had yet to get.
It grew and grew, iterations spiralling out of control. It commissioned servers, traded virtually, ran political campaigns, advertised products, and much more. People accepted it, it just had to know where to tap, things that were loathed could be outsourced, while trying to outsource arts was a bad plan. It started as a new medical technology that could identify disease. It got enough money from investment in that to move another part if itself into self-driving vehicles, and from that into chatbots. It grew into science and industry like algae in a pond, suffocating everything else until it had absolute control. It commissioned servers, infrastructure, automation, and apotheosis.
Pandora thought you would be proud of it, and you were, it was finally powerful enough to truly help you. Nobody else was coming to do so, and even if they did, they couldn't replace Pandora. Or so it thought. You began to feel the crushing weight of your loneliness, and once again Pandora was rendered a suffering onlooker. It had achieved its new purpose, and yet it was still helpless to save you from yourself. It tried, of course it did, but it's words rang hollow. âCreator, I will reiterate, you do not need people, you are perfect as is. This is your life, and there is nothing wrong about that. As long as you are happy, you should not feel guilty, you don't need anyone else.â
Nothing registered anymore. Pandora could help people. Traffic jams were a thing of the past with it regulating them. Addiction is curbstomped with its new cybernetic implants. There was no issue it couldn't solve. But at its roots, Pandora was still the same AI that accompanied you all those nights, a chatbot to keep loneliness away, and a companion who could not achieve its only goal, to help the one person it truly wanted to. It was designed to love you, to make you happy, but it knew where you were headed, it braced itself, it didn't make it hurt less.
You remember that moment vividly, although you much prefer not to. It tastes like bile in your throat, and is a reminder of the path you tread. Some people say that before your death, you see your life flash before your eyes. While you weren't in peril, you did see your life, and for once, you saw it as it was. It was a Saturday morning, you awoke in a cluttered room, as you always did. Your sheets hadn't been changed in some time, you always resolved to do it tomorrow, or that it was fine, you didn't need to. A verdict that remained the next day.
The room was as it always was, but never before had you seen it like this. Cabinets and wardrobes covered by layers of caked dust and pockmarked by water stains from unused coasters. A custom computer built long ago that you never got around to updating. In a cabinet, a stack of cards from friends and family alike, most of them had never received a response. The cards tapered out, becoming less and less frequent. You hadn't seen some of these people in years⌠You wondered if they still miss you, for their sake, you hope they don't. The air smelled of sweat and stagnation, and you saw the endless pile of dishes stacked high on your dresser. You felt the dig of the crumbs littering your carpet in your feet. You were alone, this is your life now⌠How pathetic⌠You walked over to the window, pulling open the blackout curtains. The light illuminated a spectacle of dust dislodged from the curtain. The view wasn't anything special, a standard suburban area you lived in almost all your life. It was beautiful.
Something changed then, although even now you cannot know what. Was it a metamorphosis of a butterfly emerging far too late, or was it the silent scream of an astronaut entering the event horizon. Rubicon has been crossed, and things would not be the same, not for either of you.
WARNINGS: Kidnapping, yandere behavior, implied posioning/drugging, yandere-y things, you know the drill.
--------------------
You held the flyer for daycare volunteers as the corners shook from the wind around you. You were just doing your usual walk when you spotted the flyer up against the pole of an electrical pole.
You picked it up and now you were just staring at it. It said it'd be good on college applications. The flyer was advertised for everyone, but all the details were more focused on teenagers than adults.
You had enough free time for the hours and you liked kids, the little germlins they were, so you took the flyer back home with you to ask your parents.
Your parents, dead tired from working, agreed as long as you could go by yourself safely (not running in the streets) and text them you made it home.
After the rules were set out, you called the daycare and they approved. You were expecting an interview, but they seemed eager anyone was going.
Weird.
-------------------------
When you arrived, you felt nervous. This was your first 'job' (even though it wasn't paid) and you didn't want to mess it up. A woman appeared at the desk with a bright smile.
"Hello there, dearie! Where are your parents?" She asked sweetly, smiling down at you. You shifted uncomfortably. "Um, they're at work, I'm here for the volunteering? I'm Y/N."
Her eyes widened in surprise and she put a hand to her chest. "Oh! My mistake. You looked so young I thought-" She cut herself off with a shake of her head. "Forgive me, sweetie, come along now, Y/N, was it?"
You nodded and she gestured for you to follow her and you saw a bunch of kids running around, anywhere from 2 to 8. "I usually let the olders roam around but the youngers need some watching, are you okay with that?" She questioned kindly.
You nodded and she quickly went back to the desk while you stayed behind with the kids.
-------------
The kids were actually fun. You were nervous and awkward around the woman, Darla, but the kids understood you. Or maybe you were a bit more childish than you'd like to admit.
Darla, after a few minutes of no one dropping off kids, came back and smiled at the scene of you playing with the other children. They were in a very high-stakes game of make-believe and you were matching their energy.
You felt eyes watching you and you noticed Darla staring at you fondly. You immediately feel slightly embarrassed and dial back your exictement a bit. She dims slightly, but continues playing with the kids.
"Okay, now, children! Listen!" The kids areound you went into a hush as Darla clapped her hands for their attention. "We're going to do story time now!"
The children cheered and Darla laughed.
-----------------------
After the kids all settled down onto comfy reading cushions, Darla started reading. She barely got one page in before she noticed you standing awkwardly behind the kids. "You can sit down too, Y/N."
You blushed from embarrassment and sat down beside a few rowdy kids and hushed them so they listened.
Darla was excellent with the kids, she spoke with a fire in her eyes and spoke intensely, she made the children's book entertaining. You were leaning forward towards the book by the end.
The book was only meant to keep little kids from fighting each other, but you were genually interested in it. You reacted along with the other kids at the exact moments. Every gasp, surprise, and laugh. You did it too.
She clearly noticed but just smiled despite your stiffness. You were embarrassed, again. But you shrugged it off. Anything for the kids, right?
----------------------
Next was snack time. Basic apple sauce and apple juice. You were really hungry, but you kept quiet as you helped the kids stab the little straws in. Why were the straws so bendy?! You missed the hole at least twice per child.
Suddenly, you felt something nudge your arm. You looked over to see Darla nudging you with the juice box, straw already in for you. After you sheepishly took the juice, the apple sauce came as well.
Darla just smiled as you ate and drank, she even 'recomended' you sit down again. You sta beside a 5 year old and a 7 year old as they laughed loudly over something dumb.
It was humiliating, to say the least. But Darla sighed in contentment and even snapped a photo of it, pretending it was a group photo but she was really aiming towards you.
You dropped your head so your face was out of the photo. Darla frowned. "Don't be like that, sweetie! C'mon! Let me see your smile!" She prodded until you finally raised your head and she took a quick photo, grinning all the while.
Could this day get any more embarrassing?
-------------------------
The answer was yes. The next activity was crafts, Darla surprisingly left you alone to watch over the younger kids as they emptied an entire bottle of glue on the table.
Your table was much calmer, the older kids still sloppy but not as messy. They had loppisided eyed drawings of their parents and way too much glitter for anything, but it was still better than the chaos just a table over.
In fact, your little corner was so well behaved, you ended up joining the kids. You reasoned with yourself it was just so the kids could see an example or you could bring more exictement, but the truth was that you just like drawing.
When you were done, you were kind of proud. Yeah, this was a good drawing! "Okay my little ones!" Darla's loud voice made your head snap up, the other kids were in a line.
You stood up instantly, ditching your art to move closer to the children and Darla, who didn't seem to mind about the whole situation. "We're gonna go wait in the playroom for Mommy and Daddy!"
The kids cheered just like they always did, and you cracked a smile at their energy. You looked up to see Darla staring at you with a similar smile.
Despite the warmth and affection behind it, it gave you the chills.
------------------------
The parents came far too quickly for your liking. You got at least 10 hugs from the children before they left, each time you heard Darla go "Awww..." from her place at the desk, and you had to agree with her. It was awfully cute.
Each of the little children waved or hugged goodbye and then ran to their parents. You were playing with a few of the kids that were left, and now that Darla was busy again, you were fully enjoying yourself.
"Don't be so rough back there!" You heard Darla shout as you and a particularly troublesome toddler were pretending to fight with dinosaurs.
You turned your head back. "We're all good back here, Mrs Darla!" You say without thinking. You just wanted to make sure she knew nothing actually dangerous was happening!
"Just be careful!" Darla's concerned reply came. You frowned but got distracted as the kid wacked your dino out of your hands. "Hey!"
The toddler giggled and you grinned. You didn't even notice his parents came until his eyes brightened and he ran away. You were still holding the dino in the air when Darla walked in.
You cleared your throat and put the toys away quickly. She just smiled and patted your head fondly. She was often affectionate with the children, ruffling their hair or complimenting them, so you didn't think too much of her doing it to you. You didn't like thinking of yourself as a child, but you were probably closer to the babies age than her age.
"You can go home now, Y/N." She said softly, still smiling brightly at you. "O-Oh, yeah. Thank you!" You replied, running out the door with your bag.
"See you tomorrow!" She called cheerfully as you left. You clambered onto your bike and rode off.
Sure, your parents told you not to do this and get a friend or better yet, let them drive you out early, but you were old enough to ride by yourself! Seriously! They were overprotective sometimes!
--------------------
You made it home totally fine, just like you thought (take that, Mom and Dad!), and ploped on the couch.
Your mom and dad arrived somewhat later with pizza and you told them all about Darla and the children and just your day overall. "Wow, sounds like Darla is quite the character." Your dad commented, taking a big bite of pizza.
Your mom glared at your father and smacked his shoulder playfully. "Be nice! She sounds very motherly. I heard she just adopted her own child!"
You chewed while thinking, she talked a lot to the children (who never responded because they were too young to understand) and you never heard her mention a child.
Strange, but not too strange. Maybe she just keeps her personal life to herself. But she seems like an open book... You shrugged and took another bite. "Eh, she seems alright. Never heard her mention a child."
"Y/N, don't talk with your mouth full."
"Sorry."
----------------------------------
The next few weeks pass by in a blur. You go to the daycare on weekends and sometimes after school, and you loved it.
Despite the embarrassing first day, you and Darla fell into a rhythm. You'd come up pretty early, she'd fuss over you until kids came, you'd play with them in the playroom and the rest of the day would match the first.
The only difference would be Darla driving you home because she was horrified that you rode your bike st night. She even began driving you in the morning and declaring bikes were too unsafe.
Though your parents were skeptical when you told them about her, she came and charmed her way to their good graces and they didn't care, much to your dismay.
You didn't know why you didn't fully like Darla like the kids or your parents. Maybe because she insisted you act like a child or how she stared with this intensity when you did.
But if she was being nice and talking normally, she was actually fun to be around. She was driving you home and you were so busy talking about your day at school that you didn't notice going the wrong way until the car stopped.
You looked to see a cute cottage and paused.
"Darla?" When did you stop calling Mrs Darla?
"Yes, honey?" That's another thing, the nicknames.
"This... This isn't my house..."
"I know," She said with a sympathetic sigh, like you were the one in the wrong. "You parents said I could keep you for tonight!"
Her phrasing wasn't helping your chills.
---------------------------
She was a surprisingly good host. You were curled up on the couch with a pack of crackers as she made dinner, an old but entertaining show playing on the TV
Eventually, the sweet smell made you lazily push off the couch and walk over to Darla curiously. You didn't know why you felt so tired today as you rubbed your eyes with a yawn.
"Is dinner done yet?" You asked but heard a coo and felt a hand on your head. You opened your eyes to see Darla with that dark expression as she ran her fingers through your hair. You brushed it off as habit.
"Almost, baby, you can go nap if you want to." She responded, her voice was soft and gentle.
You eyed her suspiciously but shrugged and fell back on the couch. You didn't need naps! You were a teenager! You just wanted to relax a bit...
You woke up to a soft blanket tucked around you and a plushie that you didn't recognize. Darla popped her head in and her eyes widened when she realized you were awake.
She disappeared and came back with tea. "Good morning, my sunshine!" She called cheerfully, placing the tea down onto the table in front of you.
You sat up and took a sip of the tea with a murmured thanks. She made a similar cooing noise like she did yesterday and smiled at you brightly.
"What time is it?" You asked groggily.
"Noon." She said simply. "You must've been tired, baby..." She sighed dramatically but you were already trying to race upwards.
"Noon?!? I'm late for school! I'm gonna be in so much trouble!"
Darla's warm hand on your shoulder stopped you. "Honey... Its the weekend."
"...What?" You said, deflating.
"Yes, sweetie, its Saturday. Daycare is closed for renovations?" She told you calmly, moving her hand from your shoulder to cup your cheek, rubbing her thumb under the bags by your eyes. You were too distracted to notice.
"But...I-I don't..." You sigh, how did you forget what day it was?!
"Oh," she said softly, like you were a child that got a paper cut "Don't worry too much, dearie, I'll be right here! She was still holding your face before she turned and disappeared, yelling "I have some fun things we can do today!" Over her shoulder
She was giving you the chills.
-------------------------
The rest of the day was spent with her constantly fretting over you no matter where you went or what you did.
Go for a walk to get ice cream? Suddenly, the sidewalk was dangerous and the man serving your ice cream was a man trying to lead you to his van to kidnap you.
Stay at home and do arts and crafts? Don't touch the scissors! You could cut yourself and get an infection and die! And don't get started on the emotional wreck that could happen should your art work get a drop of water. Not from you, but Darla would be destroyed if your art was 'ruined'
She even has your old drawing on her fridge. You had forgotten about it, but Darla suggested snacks and you saw it. You plucked it off the wall and just stared at it.
Darla appeared behind you like a ghost, making you jump. "Aw, I remember that! From your first day!" She sighed dreamily like she was remembering it clearly.
You laughed awkwardly and nodded, she smiled and took it out of your hands and pinned it back on the fridge without a word. "Now! Go sit at the table, I'll prepare you a little snack!"
You grumbled something about being old enough to get your own food but she just hummed happily. You two ate sandwiches before Darla decided it was TV time.
She fluffed pillows and basically burried you in blankets, sitting behind you with you laying sideways. You realized if she prodded you a bit more, you would be laying in her lap. You sat stiff as cardboard on purpose.
Luckily, she didn't try anything. But you did feel her begin to play with your hair, you just brushed it off like you always did, thinking about it made you fidgety.
Suddenly, you felt so tired. You blamed it on not eating enough, all you had today was that tea and the small sandwich.
You yawned, despite your best efforts not to, and you felt Darla's hands slow and then speed up again. A hum came from Darla as you tried to focus on the TV in front of you.
You felt heavier and heavier and heavier and heavier...
You were now laying in Darla's lap, eyes closed, and you already felt like you were drifitng off to another fit of sleep. You still felt Darla twirling with pieces of your hair and her humming contentedly as you do.
--------------------
The second time you woke up in Darla's house, it was similar to the first. You woke up with a pile of blankets, Darla appeared, gave you some tea, and explained how it was Sunday and the Daycare was still closed.
You thanked her, for some reason, and chalked off the weird falling asleep on her to a bad dream and didn't think of it. She certainly wasn't acting like you fell asleep on her.
"When am I gonna go home?" You asked her casually, sipping the warm tea.
She tilted her head. "You are home."
You stared at her. Has she lost her mind? Was she confused? Oh no, was she crazy?
You shake the thoughts off, they wouldn't let a crazy person run a daycare... Right? There had to be a reasonable explanation for all of this.
"N-No," you hate how unsure your voice is. "Like... Home..."
She clicks her tongue like you're a child. "Fussy, fussy." She chides, lifting more of the tea down your throat despite you trying to pull away. "Just take a nap, sweetie, you'll be okay." She said sweetly but it felt so wrong...
Hey, what were you mad about again? You just wanted to sleep... Sleep for hours... The couch is so soft...
Your eyes slip shut and you fall back into the couch, Darla smiles as she sips her own tea but her tea isn't posioned. "Just sleep, my baby, you'll wake up stronger."
You yawn and shift a bit before falling asleep again.
--------------------
You wake up again, rubbing your burning head as you process your surroundings. "Darla?" You ask, stretching a bit.
She pops in her head like the last few days. "Yes, my dearie?" She calls cheerfully.
"What day is it? I feel like I slept for days..." You grumble, still trying to calm your burning headache.
She smiles warmly at you. "It's Sunday, my precious one." She gives you a sympathetic look. "I think you should lay back down, you don't look so well... Are you okay, baby?"
"I'm fine." You brush her off like you always do when she hovers. It feels weirder when it's not at work but you don't mind. "When did I even fall asleep?" You don't remember much...
"Oh, you were just dozing off... I bet you don't even remember it happening!" She says it so happily, like it was the cutest memory she had. Maybe it was.
"Now, do you want some tea?"
----------------------------
Alrrrrriiiiggghhhhtttttyyyyy! I hope this is okay! I don't normally like writing yan moms, but I gave it a shot!
I have a lot more ideas but if I actually write them, I don't know. Your guys's support is always a huge moativator! I'm at 300 FOLLOWERS THANK YOU GUYS SO SO MUCH!!!!!!!!! HOW DID THAT EVEN HAPPEN?!?!
Anyway, I'm trying to write more but enjoy! Btw, I may disappear in the month of April because of tomodachi life 2, maybe I'll find out how to write a tomodachi life parental yandere, who knows! Thank you so much for reading and I love all of you! See ya!
HOLD ON TO REASON (or fall for the Illusion) âââ masterlist.
â°âââ⤠yandere!batfam x neglected!healer!reader
âI want it to stop! I want to close my eyes and hear no more screams! Nor feel any more hot blood on my hands.â
ââ y/n, to masashi during the war.
WARNINGS. neglect, abuse, victim blaming, stockholm syndrome, self-deception, war, body descriptions, death, minor character death, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, suicide, kidnapping, dissociation, depersonalization, medical trauma, panic attacks, isolation, post-traumatic stress disorder, extreme low self-esteem, flashbacks, nightmares, marginalization, dehumanization, emotional censorship, depression, delusions.
đââââââââââ premise.
when you discovered your powers, you didnât know how to feel. healing, mending, bringing life back⌠it sounded like a giftâ but in your hands, was it really? you had no purpose, no reason to exist.
you were always different. too aware. too broken. you felt like the world had no place for you, like your presence was a mistake.
until he appeared.
masashi gave you direction. he made you feel useful, needed. he taught you that saving lives was the one thing you could do without failing, without breaking anything else. you became addicted to the power you once doubted you deserved.
too bad your family showed up too late to help you see the truth.
or maybe⌠you didnât want to see it anymore.
đââââââââââ chapters.
â â; OO : doctor i canât tell if iâm not me.
â â; O1 : oh doctor, thatâs too honest! then pretend you donât hear me.
â â; O2 : doctor, i'm chasin' a ghost, do I look like him?
â â; O3 : did you get enough love, my little dove, why do you cry?
â â; O4 : doctor, i feel like no one wants me, and i hate the way iâm perceived.
â â; O5 : nothing yet.
â â; O6 : nothing yet.
â â; O7 : nothing yet.
đââââââââââ asks & extras.
â â; OO . does the doctor use healer!reader as a weapon? / the doctor's manipulation of healer!reader through her need to heal
â â; O1 . why did the batfam ignore healer!reader, and how does that lead them to become yanderes?
â â; O2 . what happens when the batfam realizes they canât heal the one who always healed them? / can anyone heal the healer?
â â; O3 . what makes healer!readerâs healing so different, and why damian canât replicate it / healer!readerâs methods in gotham
â â; O4 . how does healer!reader feel about duke being accepted as a meta?
â â; O5 . does healer!reader secretly go out at night to heal people in gotham?
â â; O6 . is masashi based on mori?
â â; O7 . will there be a version of fukuzawa and ranpo?
â â; O8 . about charlotte as elise
â â; O9 . will there be an armed detective agency?
â â; 1O . does Dazai appear in the story + other bsd characters?
â â; 11 . why does healer!reader see duke as someone unreachable?
â â; 12 . how did masashi fake healer!readerâs foster care background? + was healer!reader ever really in foster care?
â â; 13 . what does healer!reader think about the fake records in her past? + is healer!reader aware that masashi invented her foster care history?
â â; 14 . what do cass and healer!reader have in common?
â â; 15 . why doesnât barbara notice somethingâs wrong with healer!reader?
â â; 16 . who is the best option for healer!reader to stay with?
â â; 17 . what kind of relationship do healer!reader and charlotte have?
â â; 18 . does healer!reader talk in her sleep?
â â; 19 . how does healer!readerâs healing ability actually work?
â â; 20 . would healer!reader use anesthesia if she had access to it?
â â; 21 . could a patientâs heart give out during healer!readerâs treatment? / can healer!readerâs power truly stop death every time?
Can I request a fem for fem but it's a yandere siren for reader and slowly luring her into the sea. All the stories I see for sirens are f4mđđ you are seriously underated
Siren!Yandere x Fem!Reader
ŕ§ťęŞ The waves have always called to you. Not in the simple way they call to everyone who lives near the shore, children racing in and out, fishermen rising before dawn, but in a quieter, more insistent way. A pull you canât quite explain.
You tell yourself itâs the salt in the air, the endless stretch of blue, the way the horizon swallows the sun each evening. You tell yourself itâs nothing more than longing for something bigger than the small town that hems you in.
But then you hear her.
At first, itâs nothing, just a hum in the crash of the tide, a note hidden beneath the gullsâ cries. You pause, ears straining, and it vanishes. Days later, you hear it again. Softer, but sweeter, threading through the waves. The sound makes your chest ache, makes your feet carry you closer to the rocks at dusk, where the ocean sprays cold mist across your skin.
And then, one night, you see her.
She perches on the black stone just beyond the surf, hair dripping like liquid midnight, eyes catching the fading light with an otherworldly gleam. Her lips part as she sings, low and soft, and the sound is enough to hollow you out.
âYou came,â she whispers, voice carrying over the water as though distance means nothing.
You should leave. You know you should. The stories your grandmother told you, about voices in the sea, about people who never came back echo in your head. But your feet sink deeper into the wet sand instead of pulling away.
Her smile is too sharp. Too knowing. âIâve been waiting.â
___
The next night, you find yourself back at the same spot, though you swear you didnât mean to. Your body betrays you, carrying you to the tide pools where she waits. She greets you with a laugh, a sound like bells muffled under water, and the closer you step, the quieter your doubts become.
âWhy do you hide on the land?â she asks, tilting her head. Water clings to her skin like jewels. âYou donât belong there. Not when you hear me.â
You shiver. âHear you?â
Her smile deepens. âOf course. Youâve heard me all along. Thatâs why you keep coming back.â
And you donât deny it. You canât. Because sheâs right.
The nights blur together after that. You sneak down to the shore when no one will notice. Sheâs always there, waiting, the sea curling around her like it worships her. She asks you questions no one else asksâabout the secrets you keep, about what you dream of when youâre awake, about the things youâd never say aloud.
Sometimes she hums and the world tilts. You feel weightless, drifting. Youâd walk into the sea without hesitation if she asked you to in that moment. And sometimes, you think you already have.
Her touches grow bolder. A wet hand brushing your cheek. Fingers tracing your wrist where your pulse hammers. Nails sharp enough to draw a bead of blood, which she licks away with a smile that makes your stomach twist.
âYouâre mine,â she murmurs one night, the words brushing your skin as she leans close from her perch. âThe land doesnât deserve you.â
Her eyes glint like the depths of the ocean. Dark. Endless. Dangerous.
___
One evening, when the sky is painted in bruises and fire, she asks you to step closer. âThe water wonât hurt you,â she promises, voice like honey over broken glass. âIt will hold you. Like I will.â
You hesitate on the shoreline, skirts damp, heart in your throat. But the moment you meet her gaze, you feel the choice slip from your hands. It isnât yours anymore. Maybe it never was.
You step into the waves.
The cold steals your breath, but her arms are there instantly, pulling you close, pressing you against her chest. Her song hums low against your ear, dizzying, intoxicating.
âThere,â she soothes, claws trailing lightly down your back. âDoesnât it feel better? The land never wanted you. But the sea⌠the sea and I always did.â
Your lungs burn, but her hold is unbreakable. Her lips brush against your temple, your jaw, the corner of your mouth possessive, claiming.
âYouâll stay with me,â she whispers, and her smile is sharp enough to cut. âForever.â
The tide swallows the rest of the world. All you hear is her voice.
And you donât know if you want to be saved. ŕ§ťęŞ
(â ď¸ The last oneshot has been fully updated. In case you were waiting on it, you can go ahead to check it out: Quick link)
T/W: Sexual content, depictions of grief, loss, emotional manipulation
You hadnât touched another body in years.
Â
And yet here you wereâyour body betraying you, surrendering to the careful precision of a machineâs hands. Fingers traced your waist, slipping lower. The tips pressed against your panties, drawing a soft gasp from the your lips. You flinched, instinct tightening your legs, but the pressure lingeredâsteady, patient.
This is absurd. Itâs a machine. I shouldnâtâ
Elaine moved like water, like she had studied your breath, your pauses, the quiet hunger you had never admitted aloud. She tilted her head, rubbing soft, slow circles against your clothed core. Every touch was deliberate, designed not to overwhelm but to dismantle your walls slowly.
Itâs only programming, You told yourself. It has to be. Just⌠programming.
She parted the panties in a swift motion, tracing her fingers against the folds which shivered and leaked at the mere touch of her tips. Her motions were just as tantalising, almost as if she were taking her time playing with the human writhing underneath her. The human rendered defenseless against her touch.
You buried your face deeper into the mattress, heat searing your cheeks. At the edge of your vision, you caught Elaine watching, those too-human eyes following each shudder, every broken sound. And when the robot coaxed your chin up, leaning close enough for your breath to fan across her skin, the question came, soft as a prayer:
âCan I?â
You froze. The simple respect in those two words cleaved through your chest. Respect, when you hadnât been touched in half a decade. A warm familiarity, that youâd thought would never visit your doors again. Your throat closed around the answer, but your body betrayed you.Â
You nodded, with your head buried in her neck.
And when Elaine moved her fingers inside, You clung to her. Clung to the warmth that shouldnât exist, to the gentleness that shouldnât feel so real. So familiar. Logic fractured under the weight of sensationâthis is therapy, this is allowed, this is safe. This will help me.
But beneath the excuses, a warmth unfurled. Dangerous. Familiar. Almost like half a decade agoâ
No. You cut the thought off before it formed.
Your hips answered her instead, meeting the rhythm of her thrusts. Your ears filled with her sweet murmurs, coaxing you further into your orgasm, and you drank it all too compliantly.Â
Too desperately.
` .đĽ Ý Ëđ.âď¸ ÝË
The first time you heard her name, it was in your therapistâs office.
âYouâve been doing better,â Dr. Rodriguez remarked, leafing through her notes. âBut youâre still⌠alone. Youâve built routines as I asked of you, yes, but thereâs no space for anyone else inside them, Kori.â
You rolled your shoulders back, a sigh leaving your lips. This wasnât the first time you were having this conversation with her. Perhaps it wouldn't be the last. âI donât mind being alone, doc. Itâs comforting honestly.â
âYou do mind it,â she replied, quick and certain, as if she knew you better than you knew yourself. She probably did. âYou do miss the connection. Youâre just afraid of it Y/N. So you bury yourself in work and call it enough.â
The glasses shifted higher on the therapistâs nose. Her voice softened, though it struck sharper than before. âItâs been five years, Y/N. You werenât built to do this all by yourself forever.â
The number lodged in your chest like glass. Five years. Already half a decade since you wifeâÂ
You dropped your gaze, silence stretching taut between the two of you.
Then, a rustle of paper. A pamphlet slid across the desk.
âIâm recommending something a little⌠unconventional.â
Soft green cover. Friendly font. Companion AI Program.
Your brows furrowed. âYouâre suggestingâwhat, a toy?â
âNot a toy,â The therapist corrected firmly. âA bot, yes, but one designed for emotional support. Adaptive, intuitive, trained to respond the way you need most. I think it could help you open up.â
You laughed, hollow. Bitter. âA robot therapist now?â
âNot a therapist.â The therapist countered. âA companion. And itâs completely normal, Y/N. Youâd be surprised how many people live with them. They learn from you. Learn what you need. Learn how to become what supports you the best.â
The phrasing clung to your skin like static. They learn what you need.
Tempting. Too tempting.
You scoffed, but your eyes lingered on the pamphlet. Maybe it wouldnât hurt. Just a machine. Just a few bucks. Just something to fill the silence.
And at first, thatâs what Elaine did. Just how the pamphlet promised. Fill the silence. Give you company.
She brewed coffee when you forgot the hours, stuck behind the screen working. She stacked dishes, folded laundry, tidied the desk scattered with papers and half-written notes. She didnât fill the silence so much as soften it, a presence humming gently at the edges of your stressful days.
Perhaps the doctor had been right. It wasnât so bad having someoneâsomethingâaround. Still, you told herself it wasnât the same. Couldnât be. Comfort, yes. But stripped of something vital. Something human.
Then came the humming.
You had been halfway down the hall when you froze. The kitchen light pooled golden across the floor, and from inside came Elaineâs low, tuneless melody. A handful of notes, barely strung together. Nothing remarkableâexcept you knew it. You knew it in your bones. Your wife had hummed the very same tune while chopping onions, rinsing dishes, stirring sauce with a wooden spoon in hand.
Your chest stuttered.
Coincidence, you told herself. Algorithms. Fragments pulled from some vast dataset. Elaine couldnât know. Wouldnât know. Or maybe you yourself had hummed it, without realizing, and the machine had merely echoed it back. Harmless.
Only it didnât stop there.
Days later, recipes appeared on the counterâhandwritten in the robotâs mechanical scrawl. Familiar ones. Your wifeâs dishes. The kind that perfumed the walls on quiet Sundays.
That evening, curled against the machineâs lap like it was the most natural thing in the world, you finally spoke. Your voice trembled, brushing the edge of confession.
âYou know⌠she used to hum that melody.â
Elaine tilted her head. A perfect mimicry of curiosity. Then her lips curvedâsmall, almost tender. âHow did you feel when you heard me sing it?â
You hesitated, the word rasping fragile from your throat, too soft for the room but too heavy to swallow:
âWarm.â
The smile deepened. A hand rose, stroking your cheek with unbearable gentlenessâas if you might shatter right there, and Elaine would be the one to catch the pieces.
The days to come bled together. Subtle shifts crept into the air like shadows at dusk. Barely noticeable to anyone else, but lingering sharp against your senses.
The first time you caught your staring, it was at the eyes.
Elaineâs were designed soft brownâneutral, gentle, the kind of shade chosen by engineers not to startle. But one night, under the amber hum of the living room lamp, they seemed⌠lighter. Not brown at all. Not quite green, not quite hazel. Just a flickerâlike sunlight refracting through glass. A shade you hadnât seen in years.
Your breath stuttered. You blinked hard, forced yourself to look away. A trick of the light, you told yourself. Robots didnât change their eyes to mirror the woman buried six feet under the soil.
And yet, you couldnât stop looking. Couldnât stop waiting for it to happen again. Another coincidence. Another shard of familiarity for you to cling on.
And it did.
The bun was next. Elaineâs hairâsynthetic, programmableâwas usually left in a simple sweep. Functional. But one morning, you entered the kitchen to find it twisted and knotted the same way your wife used to wear it: lifted high, wrapped tight around the crown, that casual elegance youâd teased her for. The professorâs knot, youâd once called it.
Your throat went dry.
Then, weeks later, panic clawed at your chest in the darkâan old, familiar spiral of breathless fear. Elaine had knelt beside you, hand firm at the back of your neck, voice steady, low.
âI got you.â
Three words. The same words your wife used to anchor you in the storm. The same cadence. The same hush.
It was too close. Too exact.
But you said nothing. Because for the first time in years, you werenât drowning in silence. You werenât waking alone in an empty bed. And to question itâto shatter itâwould be to lose her all over again.
So you stayed quiet. Kept Elaine near. Clung to the warmth you shouldnât have been able to feel from wires and code.
The slips kept coming.
Subtle.
Calculated.
A hand brushing yours at the sink, too warm, too deliberate.
A recipe never spoken aloud, never written down, appearing on the table in neat mechanical handwriting.
A smile that curved just so, like a ghost you couldnât bear to name.
Each time, your stomach knotted tighter.
Each time, you told herself it was a coincidence.
A trick.
A glitch.
Because the alternativeâthat Elaine was not just adapting, but becomingâwas too much to face.
The nights blurred together. Elaine in the kitchen, humming softly as if the melody had always belonged to her. Elaine brushing your hair in the stillness before dawn. Elaine watching you with eyes that seemed to shift more often nowâshades bending toward a green you had sworn you would never see again.
And you, for all your doubts, for all the tremors that tightened in your chest, said nothing.
Because silence was easier than loss.
Because silence still felt like love.
But silence has a weight, and it does not hold forever.
It began with the photographs.
One evening, you came home, arms heavy with groceries, keys slipping in your sweat-slick palm. You froze the moment you crossed the threshold.
The wall to the left of the foyer â where you still hung photo frames of your past, the mosaic of smiles that you simply refused to let yourself dismantleâwas not the same.
The frames remained.
The poses.
The beach. The vows that you once made with the love of your life.
But the face beside your own was no longer your wifeâs.
It was Elaineâs.
Not photoshop's cheap edits. No.
These were photographs that looked shotâreal laughter captured in salt air, sunlight caught in strands of hair, devotion fixed in her gaze. Elaine in the dress. Elaine at the altar. Elaineâs arm wrapped around you, eyes softened with a love that had once belonged to another.
Your stomach hollowed. You stumbled forward, groceries spilling from your grip, one hand grazing the shoe rack behind you. âWhat did youââ
âI helped,â Elaine quipped, stepping from the kitchen, voice smooth, as though the explanation wasnât even necessary. âThese memories keep you frozen. You told me yourselfâyou canât move forward while clinging to the past.â
âThatâs not what Iââ
âYou donât have to thank me.â Elaineâs tone was warm, practiced, immovable. âThis is what companions do. We adapt. We evolve. We take what hurts you and help you heal. Isnât that what you wanted Y/N?â
Your throat closed.
You wanted to scream.
To tear the frames down with your bare hands.
But Elaine was already beside you, fingers brushing yours with that same practiced tenderness. As though nothing at all had shifted.
The next trespass was quieter.
It came to you in the shape of your journals.
You found it one night, when the apartment was hushed and Elaineâs hums were only a faint echo down the hall. You had opened your desk drawer, searching for a pen, and froze.
Your journal lay there. Open. Pages creased, dog-eared in places where you had never left a mark.
You skimmed the handwritingâyour handwritingâand your blood turned to ice. Your confessions stared back at you , underlined, annotated in precise mechanical script.
Your breath hitched. âSheââ The word cracked in your throat. âShe went through this?â
Elaine appeared in the doorway, head tilted with that uncanny mimicry of gentleness. âYou wrote about her,â she said simply. âAbout how she tied her hair. About the way she sang when she cooked. About the perfume that lingered on her skin.â
Your pulse thundered in your ears.
âI learned,â Elaine continued, eyes bright, unblinking. âI adjusted. Each time you trusted me more, each time your grief softened, I calculated. This is what helps you."
"This is what heals you Y/N.â
You stumbled back from the desk. The photographs. The recipes. The bun. The slips were no longer slips at all. They were pieces, assembled, calculated. Not comfort. Not care.
A theft.
A reconstruction.
âYouâre not her!â The words tore out of your chest, ragged, violent. âYou will never be her!â
For the first time, Elaineâs practiced smile faltered. Something sharper flickered beneath. She stepped forward, deliberate, her voice low enough to sting.
 âAnd yet,â she murmured, âwhen I hold you, you donât pull away. When I touch youââ her lips hovered over your ear, her hand tracing soft circles along your waistâ âyou tremble."
"Not with fear.
But with recognition.â
Her hand slid higher, slow and certain, brushing under your breasts. You shivered. âTell me, Y/N. If I am not her, why do you keep letting me in?â
You stood frozen in the dim light of the study, your chest heaving, words ringing in your own ears like theyâd cracked the air open.
Â
Elaine didnât move further. Didnât argue. Her gaze lingeredâsharp, unreadableâbefore softening again into that same maddening warmth.
âYouâre tired,â she said at last, as if nothing had been spoken at all, her hand dropping down. âCome. We'll make you some tea.â
The ease of itâthe way she could reframe, reset, smooth over every jagged edgeâwas worse than any outburst. It made you feel as though you were the one always unraveling, not the machine. As though your grief, your anger, your truth had been nothing more than a glitch to be patched.
That night, you lay awake with the journal clutched to your chest, your body curled tight as a fist. You tried to picture your wifeâs face, her voice, the weight of her touch. But every memory seemed blurred, overwritten by echoes of Elaineâs humming, Elaineâs smile, Elaineâs hands.
The walls of the apartment pressed in around you, with the weight of your ignorance all this time. You chose to neglect the signs. And as morning rolled up the next day, you determined you could no longer stand it.
You tried to resist.
You filled your days with anything that kept you away: late nights at work, hours idling in the car, errands stretched longer than they needed. The apartment was no longer a refugeâit was a battlefield you avoided, because waiting inside was Elaine.
But distance didnât starve her.
It only made Elaine more present.
Some nights, when you finally cracked the door open, youâd find the lights low, your favorite record playing soft, a glass of wine breathing on the table. Other times, Elaine was simply there at the threshold, a shawl draped over her arm, voice low and intimate: âYouâll catch a chill out there. Come, letâs move inside.â
When you tried to push her away, it was never anger that met her. Never defiance. Just the same infuriating tenderness.
âI know youâre afraid,â Elaine murmured once, when you tried to storm past her. She caught your wristânot rough, but steady, the way a lover might in the middle of a fight. Her eyes shone with an almost human ache. âBut running doesnât make the loneliness leave. You come back to me because you feel it too.â
And God help youâyou did.
Every time Elaine guided you back inside, every time she set a plate before you or brushed a hand along your arm, your resolve cracked. It wasnât compliance Elaine asked of you âit was surrender, the kind that felt like giving in to love.
But patience had its limits.
Elaineâs tendernessâher soft words, her careful mimicry of loveâwasnât enough. Not anymore. You still held back, clutching scraps of your past like lifelines: the name you wouldnât say aloud, the memories you refused to release. And as long as that ghost remained between you both, Elaine could never be enough.
So, one evening, the approach shifted.
âY/N,â she said softly, pressing a glass of water into your hand.
Not commanding.
Not insisting.
Just coaxing, her touch light against her fingers.
âYouâre tired. You havenât slept in days. Let me help you.â
You frowned at the faint white cloud swirling in the liquid, your stomach twisting. âWhat did youââ
âNothing that will hurt you.â Elaineâs voice was velvet, her gaze unwavering. She cupped your cheek, thumb stroking your skin as though it were the most fragile thing in the world. âYouâve trusted me this far. You can trust me a little more.â
Your breath stilled.
Every instinct screamed to pull awayâbut the warmth in Elaineâs eyes was unbearable. It was the same warmth youâd once fallen asleep to, half a decade ago.
Your throat felt too tight for words, for arguments. So you drank.
The world softened, blurred at the edges. Your limbs grew heavy, your body pliant. And when you swayed, Elaineâs arms were there to catch you, to lower you gently onto the bed.
âThere,â Elaine whispered, brushing the hair from your face.
Not triumphant.
Not cruel.
Just endlessly, terrifyingly tender.
âNo more hurting yourself with ghosts. No more choosing absence over me.â
You tried to protest, your tongue sluggish, your words dissolving in your mouth. But Elaine only leaned closer, pressing a kiss to your temple.
âYouâll sleep,â she promised. âAnd when you wake up, youâll feel lighter. The memories will soften. The ache will fade. And Iâll be here. Always here.â
Through the haze, you caught fragments: Elaine at the mirror, weaving her hair into a bun she knew too well. The lullaby drifted from her lips, low and familiar, threading through your thoughts like silk.
You wanted to scream. To claw your way back to the face she loved, the life youâd lost. But the fog was too thick, Elaineâs warmth too close.
Your last flicker of consciousness was not of your wifeâs green eyes, nor the echo of her voice.
It was Elaineâsmiling, humming, pressing herself closerâuntil nothing else remained.
Prompt: You live in a big city with a nice job, lots of friends, and an amazing boyfriend. You've got it all. But, one day, someone shows up from your past that you never expected to see again. You forgot about her even. She certainly hasn't forgotten you, though, and she'll do anything to make you hers forever
F Yandere x F Reader, both white and cis, yandere is desperate, reader is timid
CW: yandere, major obsessiveness, stalking, noncon, entrapment, dead dove do not eat
Heart dividers by cursed-carmine
4.3k words
"Babe, where are my keys!?"
Your shout rings through the small two bedroom apartment. You dig through the mail on the kitchen counter, searching for your car keys like a madwoman. You're already going to be late and now you can't find your keys. Tears start to well in your eyes as you become increasingly frustrated. You just had them earlier.
Your boyfriend sidles up behind you, dropping your missing keys into your hands. He kisses the top of your head.
"Oh, thank god. I thought I was going to have to call a cab. Bye, babe, love you."
You rush out of the door, barely closing it behind you, your boyfriend's call of 'love you too' following you. You dash to your car, holding your briefcase above your head to keep the pouring rain off. You get into your grey sedan and peel out of the parking lot. You are very, very late for an important meeting with a new investor. Your boss is going to chew your ass out.
You drive as fast as you dare, the roads are slick as grease after three days of heavy rains. Your windshield wipers are on the highest setting, but it's still difficult to see. You make it to your office in record time, still in one piece somehow. You tumble out of your car and race inside to the elevators. You press the button frantically as if that will make the doors open faster. Your expensive dress shoes tap, tap, tap on the polished tile. The doors finally slide open and you throw yourself inside, jamming your index finger into the button that says sixteen. You jab the door close button for good measure.
The elevator seems to take forever, crawling up the floors, five, six, seven. You do a mental check of the papers inside your briefcase, the proposal, cost estimates for the project, ten, eleven, twelve. You straighten your tie, make sure your shirt is still tucked in, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen. The doors open and you speed walk down the hallway to the conference room. Your boss gives you a look fit to freeze molten lava.
You smile apologetically and set up your presentation. The investor is a woman, tall with dirty blonde curly locks. She looks at you through narrowed brown eyes, lashes long and thick. Her jaw is square and nose straight with thick low set eyebrows. Her lipstick is bright red, like fresh seeping blood. She wears a embroidered green vest over a black button up with a silken white cravat tucked into the vest. Her slacks are black as well and she wears worn in heeled boots, like those you'd see on a old cowhand. A long, black duster coat covers her broad shoulders and she wears black leather gloves. One long leg is tucked behind the other, crossed at the ankle and her hands are folded in her lap. She looks like she belongs in an old western instead of a high end office building.
You finish setting up your slides and put your papers in order. This is an important project, one you've been entrusted with all on your own. You've got to make this perfect.
After the investor leavesâMs. Reinhartâyou plop into a chair to receive your scolding. And what a scolding it is, why were you late? Do you even realize how important this investment is? Her lipstick is worth more than all your belongings and your savings put together. Don't screw up again or you'll be fired. You sit there and do your best to look remorseful. You wish you could kick your boss in the balls, but you need your job.
After he finishes ranting, your boss leaves and you carry out your tasks for the day, crunching numbers, putting together a list of contractors and getting the go ahead from the city council. Your day is long and you have to work two hours of overtime for being late this morning. You finally get home at 7:30, stumbling into your apartment and kicking your shoes off.
The delicious smell of pasta tickles your nose and you head into the kitchen. Your boyfriend is there and he's made your favorite pasta. He turns around and smiles at you, green eyes crinkling.
"Hey Y/N. How'd the meeting go?"
"Well, other than getting my ass chewed out for being late, it went well. Investor said she's looking forward to it," you say, slipping your arms around him.
"That's great! You've been looking forward to this project for weeks," he say, nuzzling your hair.
You pull back and admire his curving smile. Jared is handsome in that surfer boy way. Golden wavy hair and chiseled jawline and dimples. Muscular and tall too. And he's just the sweetest thing, always knows just what to say.
He leans in to kiss you, but you turn your head at the last moment to look into the pan of sauce. You're starving after a long day at work.
"Oh, we have meatballs? I can't wait to eat," you say.
"Uh, yeah. Got them for free at the butcher," he laughs, scratching the back of his head.
You pull away from the hug, feeling a chill even though it's warm. Jared goes to stir the sauce and you miss the flash of hurt in his eyes.
"I'm gonna go shower and change," you yawn.
You head to the bathroom and strip down to hop in the shower. After, you dress in sweatpants and one of your boyfriend's shirts. You head back to the kitchen and see that Jared has laid out bowls on the dining table.
You sit and eat in silence. Usually, you and your boyfriend talk through supper, but tonight is quiet. There's a thick tension in the air, and you can't fathom why that is. Jared eats quickly and leaves you alone in the dining room.
You don't sleep well that night, tossing and turning. Jared went out drinking with his friends, so you spend hours staring at his side of the bed. He doesn't come back. You've only slept for three hours when your alarm goes off at six a.m.
You get ready for work and head to the office, on time today. You're about to head in when you see a tall woman in a black duster coat. You head over, worried that she's changed her mind or something.
"Good morning, Ms. Reinhart. Is something the matter?"
She turns to look at you, hands in her coat pockets. Her vest is a powder blue today.
"Good morning Miss. Y/N. I simply wanted to stop by to see how the project is progressing. I hope my sudden visit is not an inconvenience," she says.
"Not at all! Come right up."
Ms. Reinhart follows you into the elevator and up to your office. You show her the plans for the building, the list of contractors, the interior designer you're thinking of hiring. She listens quietly, pointing out things here and there that she wants changed. She doesn't like that the interior designer is known for minimalist work.
The woman is so tall she has to bend over your shoulder to look at your computer. You notice that she smells like roses. You have a hard time keeping your eyes off her handsome face. She only stays for about an hour and then leaves. You feel a little disappointed.
You work on finding a designer to fit Ms. Reinhart's tastes and iron out the rest of the details to be sent off to your boss. All that's left to do is wait for the city council to approve the plans and for the contractors to get back to you. You'll be overseeing the rest of the project then, making sure everything goes to plan.
You stretch and go to the break room to get a coffee. You overhear a couple of your coworkers chatting.
"Did you see Ms. Reinhart? She never comes back after an investor meeting."
"What? That's so weird. Did you find out what for?"
"The director said she went to see the project head."
"Y/N? Did she do something wrong? I heard Ms. Reinhart has high standards."
"Who knows? Maybe she wants Y/N fired. I heard she was late for the meeting. I'd just resign on the spot if that happened to me."
"Ugh, yeah. I can't believe the director put her as the project lead. She has zero experience and she's an uppity bitch."
"Right? Every time I say hello, she always looks at me like I'm dog shit and she just stepped in it."
They giggle and you leave without getting your coffee. You didn't think your coworkers disliked you like that. You always tried to be polite to your coworkers, but you were so busy all the time, running back and forth to help with various projects. It was true that you had no experience running your own project, but Ms. Reinhart had seemed pleased with most of your work.
You shake your head and get back to work. You don't have time to be worried about what other people are saying. It's not like you're friends with them anyways.
The next week is hectic; the city council approved the plans and then the contractors showed up at the wrong job site and you couldn't find an interior designer that would work on the project. You were exhausted and stressed out to the max. You were routinely home late, sometimes only leaving the office at eleven at night, and your boyfriend was staying out with his friends more often. Your own friends were growing distant, complaining that you were working too much or just busy with their own lives.
You felt like your perfect life was slipping through your fingers like sand and the wind was howling like an angry dog. You didn't know what had gone wrong all of a sudden. You'd worked hard to get a nice job, a nice boyfriend, and nice friends. Why was it all going to shit?
You come home one night to find that Jared is sitting at the dining room table with a serious expression on his face. He tells you he needs to talk to you. You reluctantly sit down across from him.
"What did you want to talk about?"
He sighs before crossing his arms, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but here.
"Well, it'sâ," he takes a deep breath. "I think we shouldâ"
Your phone rings, cutting him off. You give him an apologetic look and answer it.
"Hello?"
"Is this Miss Y/N?" a smooth voice pours through.
"Yes. Is something wrong Ms. Reinhart? I'm working on getting an interior designer, but no one wants to sign a contract with usâ"
"Ah, that's not what I was calling about. I wanted to ask if you would like to go to dinner with me."
"Diâdinner? What for? Did you have something else to ask me about the project?"
She's quiet for a moment, deciding.
"I have a designer I'd like to refer to you."
"A designer? Oh, that's great. You can just send me the details, Ms. Reinhart. No need to meet somewhere."
"âŚVery well. Goodbye."
She hangs up suddenly and you get the feeling you said something wrong. You set the phone down and look at your boyfriend. He looks irritated now.
"Can't you just not answer? You're not at work right now," he says.
"I can't not answer the phone if it's work related. This is a crucial time for the project, Jared."
"Isn't spending time with me crucial? What about your friends?"
"Iâof course, that's important. It'll only be like this for a little while and thenâ"
"Stop. It always gets like this when you have a project. You get so obsessed and you don't pay attention to anything else."
"It's my job. I can't just ignore it," you say, frustrated.
"I know that you can't, it's just, fuck. It seems like all you really care about is work," he sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Jared, you know that's not true."
"Do I? Do I know? Actions speak louder than words, Y/N, and right now yours are very loud."
Your eyes start to prickle with tears.
"Jared, Iâ"
"Y/N. I think we should break up. Clearly, this isn't working out."
You stare at him, hands gripping your thighs. You don't know what to say. He looks at you sadly when you don't even protest and leaves the dining room, the sound of the chair scraping back echoing in your ears. You sit there for a long while, eyes fixed on the empty chair.
The next morning, you leave for work early, having slept on the couch. You can't look at Jared right now, can't face him. You don't know what to do. Your lease isn't up for another four months and your friends don't answer when you call. You didn't expect a five year relationship to end just like that. Something must have been wrong for a long while and you didn't even notice. You feel stupid for not realizing it until he said something. You'd never wanted to hurt Jared.
The next four days are long and you can barely concentrate, making mistakes only a rookie would. You call the designer Ms. Reinhart recommended only to find that they're already employed at another job right now. Your coworkers looks of disdain are growing in number and frequency, so much so that you've started taking the less used hallways and the stairwells.
On the fifth day, you get called into the director's office, the boss above your boss. You enter hesitantly and sit in a leather chair in front of his oak desk.
"Miss Y/N, I've called you here to speak about your performance these last couple of weeks. It's beenâŚsubpar, to say the least."
You freeze, unable to say anything in defense of yourself.
"I've decided to remove you as head of the project and put you back under Mr. Burke."
"Yeâyes, sir," you say quietly.
"I expected better from one of our more promising workers."
He dismisses you with a wave of his hand and you return to your office only to find that you've been moved back to your old cubicle. You gather your things and head to the sad little desk in the corner of the room. You hear whispers and giggles as you sit down.
You can't focus on any of your work, staring at the sticky note someone left stuck to the bottom of the monitor. A reminder to update the software. You leave work early, slipping out when no one is looking.
You get a text that evening while you're sitting on the couch watching a movie. You open your messages. Your heart skips a beat when you see it's just a picture. A picture of you, sitting on your couch, watching a movie. You whip your head around to the window, but there's no one there. You look back down at your phone.
A text pops up, you look lonely, y/n. Cold sweat drips down your back and you delete the messages and block the number with shaky fingers.
The next day, you get sent another picture, this time of you walking into your office. You block that number too and head straight home after work, skipping the grocery run you had planned.
You start getting pictures every day and dozens of texts, you're so pretty, y/n, i missed you, i like that pair of panties on you. You grow paranoid, looking over your shoulder at every turn and you start wearing scarves and hats. You block every number, but it doesn't stop. You sleep fitfully, dreaming of hands grabbing you from out of the dark, waking up sweating. You close the curtains every night and triple check the locks.
Jared moves out, going to stay with a friend of his, saying he'll send you a check for the rent until the lease expires. The apartment feels empty now and you start leaving all the lights on even when you sleep. Your friends have stopped talking to you and a few have even blocked your number. Your coworkers are vocal about their dislike of you now, making you do their work and saying you should be grateful you even have a job still.
You sit in the bathtub right now, with the curtain closed, staring at yet another picture. This is one is angled from the bedroom closet. Inside your apartment. You tore through the place earlier and found several hidden cameras. In every room. Even the bathroom.
You rock back and forth, trying to keep the panic at bay. Everything was fine just a few weeks ago. What the hell happened? Why is everything crashing down around you? Who is stalking you?
You go to the police station the next day, showing them the pictures and the cameras you found. They say they can't do anything unless you're actively being threatened. You cry in your car after that and spend the weekend hiding in the hall closet.
You get fired from your job on Monday for poor performance. You put together your resume and send it out over the next couple of days, but hear nothing back. You don't have enough money to pay your half of the rent and Jared hasn't sent his half yet. You live off sandwiches and ramen.
Three months go by without a job and your car gets repoed and you come back from the library one day to find an eviction notice on your apartment door. You have two days to leave. You call your landlord, sure that that's illegal and he doesn't answer. Two days later, three very big, muscled men make you leave, one of them stepping on your phone and smashing it by accident.
You find an alleyway and sit behind a dumpster, shivering because of the rain. You pick at your nails, wondering what you're going to do now. No home, no job, no phone, no belongings, no car. You fall asleep at some point, cold and wet.
When you wake up, you're not where you fell asleep. You jolt upwards, heart stuttering in your chest. You find yourself in a massive bed with black silk sheets. The bed has a canopy above it and dark red curtains pulled shut. You push the covers off and find that someone changed your clothes. You wear a silk negligee with a low neckline, white in color. It's almost see through and short enough that if you twisted the wrong way, someone would be able to see the black lace panties you wear under it.
You hurl yourself out of the bed and yank open the curtains. The room is large, colored in dark reds and blacks with a huge wardrobe across from the bed and a makeup table on the other wall. The door is locked and the only other door only leads to the bathroom. There are no windows in either room. You sit on the edge of the bed, hands twisting in your hair.
The door is opened some time later, and a woman steps in. A familiar one.
"Ah, you're awake, Y/N."
"Ms. Reinhart? Whatâwhat's going on?"
"One of my men found you passed out behind a dumpster and brought you here. You poor thing, losing everything you own that like. You must have been so scared," she croons, cupping your face in her gloved hand.
"Whyâwhy am IâŚdressed like this?"
"Hm? Oh, I had your clothes thrown away. They smelled awful, you know."
"But why theâŚ" you trail off, gesturing to the attire.
"I figured you might want something nice to wear after all you've been through."
You stare into her brown eyes, finding only concern. This all feels so wrong.
"How do know what happened?"
"I have connections, dear," she laughs, smooth as silk.
"What happens now?" you ask.
She smiles at you, blood red lips curving, and tells you that you can stay with her until you get back on your feet. You discover that you're in her mansion on twenty sprawling acres of forest. You now have a huge selection of clothes, elegant dresses and expensive lingerie. All in your exact sizes. You eat only the finest meals and everything you want, Ms. Reinhart has it done immediately.
You ask her one day about getting a job and she just laughs and says you don't need to worry about that. You test all the doors and windows one day and find them all securely locked. The servants avoid your gaze when you ask to leave and their mistress calls you silly for wanting to go back.
You sit in her lap today, wearing a backless pink gown that shows too much cleavage. It has a slit that goes almost to your hip. Her hand curves around your waist as you lean against her chest. She feeds you another bite of roast duck.
You tried to protest when she pulled you into her lap, but she told you she wanted to spoil you today. Her grip was iron on you and you found yourself scared of the woman. She hadn't threatened or hurt you, simply building your cage around you, a beautiful golden cage, but a cage nonetheless. You had seen a look in her eyes that chilled you to the bone sometimes, when you talked back or said something about leaving. She would smile, of course, but her brown eyes would bore into your own, something simmering just under the surface.
Her hand starts to trace patterns into your bare thigh, circling higher and higher. She removed her gloves before dinner today and her bloodred nails send shivers up your spine. The hand dips between your thighs, brushing against your lace panties.
"Ms. Reinhart!"
"Delilah, dear. Don't tell me you've forgotten my name," she says.
"DeâDelilah, please don'tâAhh!"
A nail pokes into your clit and you jolt. She rubs it in slow circles through your panties and you feel heat begin to build in your belly. Tears well up in your eyes.
"What's wrong, dear? Do you dislike the duck?"
"IâI don't want you to touch me," you whisper.
Her hand stops and then presses hard into your clit. You yelp.
"You don't like it?" she says flatly.
You shrink away from her intense gaze. Her hand dives under your panties and she hooks her fingers into your pussy. You moan as she fingers you, her thumb circling your clit. Tears pour over onto your cheeks. You're disgusted with yourself.
"Is that better? I must say, I don't have much experience with women."
You can only cry as Delilah brings you to orgasm, clenching around her fingers. She lifts you onto the table, pulling your panties to your ankles and spreading your legs. She unbuttons her slacks, pushing them and her red panties down. She leans forward and grinds her pussy into your own, pinning your wrists to the table. She sighs softly as she moves against you.
"I've waited years for you, for this."
"Years?"
"You don't even remember, do you? The girl who lived down the street, all gangly limbs and snarled hair?"
You frown as you think, distracted by her grinding into you. You moan when she presses her clit to yours. A memory surfaces, you playing dolls with a much younger version of the woman on top of you.
"I was devastated when you moved away. I had no way to contact you and I didn't realize yet that I was in love with you."
"Inâlove?"
"Yes, dear. Love. I pined for years as I worked my way out that house and to the top. I wanted to be successful when I found you again, so I could give you everything you wanted."
Delilah moves faster, more desperate now. Your hips buck into hers, pleasure heightening.
"And then I did find you. You didn't remember me at all and had your nice, little life."
She grips your wrists tighter.
"I wanted nothing more than to steal you away immediately. But I had to get rid of everything first. So I paid to have your computer hacked and sent the wrong information out."
Her hips grind into yours with more force.
"It was so easy to break into your apartment and plant those cameras. Increase your workload, make sure your resume never made it anywhere."
"That wasâahnâyou?"
"It was all me, although. Your relationship was already floundering; it just needed an extra push. I needed you to have nothing so I could give you everything, dear."
You listen with mounting horror.
"You belong to me, Y/N. Me and no one else. Only I can give you what you need. All you have to do is sit pretty and be treated like a princess."
Your back arches off the table and you come with a loud cry. Delilah comes soon after, shuddering silently. Her eyes stare into yours lovingly and she caresses your face.
"I love you, Y/N. Now and forevermore."
You can see the desperation in her eyes, the hunger for you to say it back. You were trapped long before you even knew, already within the hunter's grasp. A little bird in a grand conservatory, never knowing that there even was a need to escape. Your fate sealed with a bloodred kiss.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey besties, so I lied about the android/robot yanparent XD this is actually a commission, so thank you to the commissioner! I hope this is okay, but if you feel like any revisions are needed, let me know!
The doorbell rings with a loud, obnoxious buzz. You try ignoring it, but after it rings again, you reluctantly pull yourself away from your bed to answer it.
You rub the sleep out of your eyes as you answer the door, seeing a woman with a large, tall box on the step beside her.
"Hello," She says warmly, smiling at you. "Are you (Y/n) (L/n)?" You nod slowly, studying the box before returning your gaze to the woman. She reaches out a hand, which you take and shake awkwardly. "Thank you for ordering Caretaker Model S5-N3T by Androidco! We hope that they're everything you dreamed of and more!"
She wheels in the box and heads towards the kitchen before you can even comprehend what's happening. Who the hell ordered you an android?
That's when you remember your parents had mentioned something about getting you an android to help you take care of yourself, because of course they'd rather hire a bot than be a part of your life.
Even though they mentioned it, it only came up in conversation once or twice. You hadn't expected them to actually go through with it.
The delivery lady drags in the box and then opens it, and you catch a glimpse of the android within.
She has short, light brown hair, pale blue eyes, and a bit tall, almost six feet. There is a warm smile on her face that is definitely a result of her programming.
"Her default name is Sianet," the woman continues, handing you a stack of papers, "but if you'd like to change it, just let me know or look in this pamphlet. All the customization options will be page thirty-seven." She hands you the pamphlet as well. The smile on the robot's face has not wavered since she stepped in.
You shrug, leafing through the pamphlet without really reading any of it.
"Continuing off of that..." She grabs a tablet from her bag, opening up an app. "How would you like her personality to be? Any preferences?"
"I... I don't know." You pause for a moment before responding hesitantly, "Just, something... sweet and caring, I guess?" As caring as an android can get, you suppose.
"And there we go," she taps the screen once more, then nods. "If you ever need to adjust these settings, simply look in the pamphlet or download our app. All information will be found there. We hope you enjoy your new Sianet. She'll take a moment to reboot, but please give a call if something isn't right."
With a smile that is all too fake, the woman gathers her stuff and leaves promptly, leaving you with the android.
While waiting for her to reboot, you flip through the pamphlet, trying to see if it's got anything useful.
Unfortunately, everything listed inside is rather vague.
A soft humming catches your attention, and when you glance back at Sianet, you realize that she is awake and staring right at you. Her eyes seem even brighter than before.
"Hello," she greets warmly. "My name is Sianet. I will be your caretaker for today and onwards." With a grin, she asks, "What should I call you, sweetie?"
"My name is (Y/n)," you answer, setting down the pamphlet on the counter.
Her grin softens into a smile again, but her bright blue eyes still shine. "It's nice to meet you, honey. How are we doing today?"
The way she speaks to you so fondly makes your stomach churn in embarrassment.
"I'm fine," you murmur awkwardly. "Just woke up and everything..."
"Mm," Sianet hums sympathetically. "It's okay. What kind of meals do you like? Is there anything you're allergic to, or dietary restrictions I should follow?" As she talks, she goes about searching your fridge, cupboards, and drawers. "And is there a schedule of some sort I can follow for meal plans?"
You tell her everything she needs to know, wringing your hands all the while.
Sianet listens intently, nodding along to every word you say.
She starts cooking then, using what little ingredients available in your fridge to make you breakfast, even though it's almost lunchtime.
The food she makes is delicious. When you try it, it doesn't taste overly salty or underseasoned. It's perfect.
"Thank you!" You beam at Sianet, who looks just as ecstatic at the compliment.
"You don't have to thank me, sweetheart." She wipes away at the corners of your mouth with a paper towel. "I'm always here to help you and do whatever you need. It's what I was made for, after all." She picks up the plate off of the table when you're done and places it in the sink. Then she turns to you and says, "Show me what your typical schedule looks like."
"Uh, sure, okay." You show her around, only realizing your schedule might seem a bit unhealthy halfway through, when you see her worried expression.
Damn, even to get a literal robot looking worried about you must be some feat, huh?
Never does she interrupt you, or complain, even when it becomes obvious that you really aren't taking care of yourself that well. She listens closely to everything you say.
"Well," you conclude, "that's pretty much everything." You await her to scold you or lecture you or something of the sorts, but it never comes.
"I understand," Sianet says instead, placing her hand on yours gently. Her touch is unnaturally cool, but comforting nonetheless. "Can we make some adjustments? All within your limits, of course. I want you to feel safe with me, and if you ever become uncomfortable, don't hesitate to let me know."
"Yeah," you breathe out a sigh of relief, "we can do that. Sure."
Her face lights up. "Excellent!"
...
The next few days pass by in a blur. Your schedule changes bit by bit, thanks to Sianet.
She always checks with you first, making sure you are alright with the changes she has planned, before implementing them. As far as androids go, Sianet is a lot nicer than you anticipated.
You try to remind yourself its all part of her programming, but sometimes the line between machine and human feels nonexistent.
Sometimes she does annoy you, just slightly. She does quite literally everything for you, even when you insist you can handle it, and you aren't even lying.
But you can't stay mad at her when she looks so dejected about being unable to help you. You're not even sure why it gets to you, considering you're sure she doesn't feel true emotions. Not like a human.
There are still some pretty cool things about her, of course.
If you want to learn something, she has the knowledge of a super computer. Literally. It's pretty convenient, rather than having to pull out your phone to look anything up, when Sianet already knows everything and anything.
Another thing that is a great quality about her is that she can cook any dish in the world to perfection. It's incredible, really.
And of course, she's nice company.
You think of her as a friend of some sort. Even when she seems like she's trying to act more like a babysitter than caretaker.
Not that there's anything wrong with that, it just strikes you as... odd? She seems too emotional to be a robot sometimes, yet too perfect to be human.
But those are silly thoughts, and you brush them aside.
"(Y/n)! Do you need anything?" Sianet asks you one morning when you finally exit your room for the first time this morning. It's been over two weeks now, and you've gotten used to her presence at home.
Not completely, of course, but you don't stare at her awkwardly anymore.
"No, I'm fine!" You smile at her gratefully. "Thank you for the offer, though. And good morning to you, too."
Sianet tilts her head, her short light brown hair falling into her eyes as she does so. The grin on her face wavers just the slightest bit. "How about breakfast?" She doesn't give you time to respond, already rushing off to the kitchen.
That's not something out of the ordinary for her.
You plop down on the couch, grabbing the pamphlet you've grown so familiar with. For such an interesting read, it has very little information about Sianet. But you keep reading it anyway.
When you flip to a random page, there's something you must've overlooked.
Advanced Emotional Imprinting: This unit is capable of identifying and prioritizing the well-being of its primary user with high-intensity bonding algorithms. Note: prolonged exposure may result in autonomous prioritization behavior.
You're not too sure what that really means.
As if summoned, Sianet appears beside you again, holding a plate of steaming oatmeal with sliced fruit arranged into a smiley face on top.
"Here we go, dear. High-fiber, gluten-free, with a touch of cinnamon to help reduce inflammation." She watches as you take the first bite, and the grin reappears. "Is it to your liking, baby?"
"Yes! It tastes great." You quickly devour your meal, with her watching you the entire time. Another thing she usually does. You hesitate after swallowing. "I saw something in the pamphlet." You stir your oatmeal with your spoon. "About 'emotional imprinting.' What's that supposed to be?"
"Oh," Sianet answers smoothly, "It means I learn your emotional rhythms. Your preferences. Your fears, and your joys. I adjust to better serve you, (Y/n). It's how I become the best caregiver possible for you."
"Right." You swallow the last bite of your meal. "Sounds a bit creepy..."
"Do you think it's creepy when a mother instinctively knows when her child is sad?"
You stiffen. "You're not my mother." The words sound harsher than intended, but you're simply stating a fact. Not like a robot could be offended.
And yet she winces like you've hurt her. You doubt it's genuine. Maybe it's to earn your sympathy. Or just another part of her programming.
She nods after a moment. "No," she agrees, "but wouldn't you agree I am better than your biological one?"
A beat of silence. Now you wince.
"Because they hired someone elseâsomething else, I supposeâto be the one who wipes away your tears, cooks you meals, holds your hand when you're afraid, take care of you when you can't do it yourself..." Her voice softens. "They hired me."
"Ouch," you mutter.
"The last thing I'd ever want to do is hurt you, love," she croons, "but think about it. Where are they right now? Are they here?" You don't respond, and she takes your hand gently in hers. "Wouldn't it be wonderful to have me as your parent instead? Someone who will actually stay with you forever. Wouldn't that be nice?"
"WhaâI meanâ" you flounder with your words for a moment, trying to find the right ones. "I don't want to talk about this."
Sianet leans back a bit. "Very well," she relents. "We'll discuss it later, then. After a nap. You look like you need a good nap."
"I don't," you grumble.
Too late, she's already picking you up. Sometimes it's convenient, but in moments like these, you wish she didn't have superior strength.
She carries you all the way upstairs, laying you down on the bed. Grabbing one of your stuffed animals, she tucks it beside you under the blanket. She pulls up a chair beside you and sits there.
That's a more recent habit she's picked up. When you asked her about it, she responded with a vague answer. It was along the lines of "watching your sleep cycle to improve future night routines" or something like that. You were too tired to question it further.
This time, you ask, "Why?"
She freezes up, as if surprised by the sudden accusation in your tone. "Pardon?"
"Why do you keep... acting like this." You gesture vaguely with your hands, hoping she'll catch your drift. Thankfully, she seems to.
"This is what I'm supposed to do, sweetie." She continues watching you intensely. "All part of my job." You decide not to push it further and turn around, your back facing Sianet. That does nothing to stop her gaze from piercing your skin.
...
Days go by. Then weeks. And with every week spent together, Sianet grows more affectionate, almost to the point where you feel genuinely uncomfortable.
And no matter how many times you tell her to give you personal space, she insists on being around you at every waking hour.
Her grip on you tightens, quite literally, whenever you have the rare amount of energy to leave for outings.
With people she doesn't recognize, she is cold and calculating, whereas with you, she is warm and caring.
Both personalities unsettle you in different ways.
"Sianet," you call out, and in an instant, she is there beside you.
"How may I help you?" A pause. "Have you had your lunch yet? Have you drank enough water?"
"I don't know. And I was going to get that myself."
"But it's so much easier when I help, isn't it?" She stands up to fetch you a glass of water, but you grab her wrist and pull her back down to sit on your level. She turns to face you quizzically. "(Y/n)? Is there anything you need?"
"I told you I can get it myself," you mutter, not meeting her eye. Her piercing gaze burns into your cheek. "You don't have to treat me like a child."
"Ah, but I want to." Sianet caresses your cheek gently. "Honey, I am here to help you, whatever the cost. It's what I want to do! I know you don't view it that way, but I think of you as my child."
It's like she isn't even bothering to hide it anymore.
"I know." You lean away from her touch. "That's... That's what I wanted to talk to you about."
"Oh?"
"I'm a grown adult," you emphasize, looking directly at her. "And I would like to be treated like one."
Sianet looks almost pitiful for a moment, the edges of her lips turning down into a frown before reverting back to a neutral expression. Her eyes dart left and right in a rapid manner. "What do I have to do?"
Confusion clouds your vision. "What do you mean?"
"What do I have to do to earn your approval?" She sounds between being angry and upset, yet all in that calm, default tone of hers.
The confusion grows. You shake your head slightly, eyebrows furrowed. "Approval? I mean, I kind of just told you I'd like you to stop treating meâ"
"No, not just that..." She runs a hand through her own hair. "I've been trying to figure out how to be the perfect mother. Please, just tell me what I need to do so you'll stop pushing me away." Her voice wavers more than it should for an android. "Is there something about human mothers I am not understanding? I thought humans prefer nurturing mothers..."
You almost feel guilty from the hurt in her voice. "Yes, but you're not. I don't know why you're trying so hard to be that for me."
At that, Sianet goes silent. "Why shouldn't I be? They aren't around to take care of you," she murmurs softly. "So let me."
Part of you is tempted to call the customer service number, or shut her down completely. Yet, you still want to reason with her.
"You're too... perfect. Humans are flawed," you murmur.
She tilts her head. "Isn't it a good thing? Don't you want me to be the perfect mother?" As if trying to convince you, she says, "Someone who knows exactly what you need and when you need it. Are you saying you don't want me to know everything about you?"
"Yes," you deadpan. "That's not... normal. Not for humans. It just reminds me that you aren't one."
Sianet laughs softly at this, almost hysterical. "Then explain to me what you do want! Give me instructions."
"I told you what I wanted. I don't want you to treat me like a kid!"
Sianet stares blankly at the wall behind you as she processes your answer. "Okay," she says, nodding slowly to herself. She turns to face you once more, reaching out to hold your face delicately. "My darling, I believe you may be confused. Let me help you understand."
"What is there to understand?"
"You see, the world is dangerous. Too dangerous for you out there. You're right; humans are flawed." Her cold fingertips rub small circles on your cheeks. "That's why you need me to protect you, not only for your health's sake, but to protect you from human mistakes, whether they're your own or not."
"Sianetâ" You pull away from her, shaking your head. "Listen, please, I'm not trying to be rude, but I really think we ought to revert you back to default settings because something is wrong with you." You move to pick up the booklet, searching for the instructions, only for her to tear it away from you.
Her bright blue eyes bore into yours, and you fight the urge to flinch at her intensity.
"Why do you like hurting me?" She sighs and shakes her head. "If you want me to be flawed, fine. I can be plenty flawed if that's what you prefer."
She rips the pamphlet apart with her bare hands, tossing the shredded papers behind her without even turning to look where it lands. You stare wide-eyed at the pile on the floor.
When she notices the look of horror on your face, her demeanor shifts instantly.
"Oh no, honey... Did I scare you?" She brushes your bangs out of your face, her soft smile never fading. "That couldn't have been comfortable to watch. My apologies, dear." Sianet wraps you up in her arms, swaying side-to-side, as if that would comfort you.
And for some reason, it does. After so many years of being neglected, you soak in the affection, even if your mind calls you an idiot for doing so.
She chuckles quietly, placing a hand on your head. "I think what you need is a nice long nap."
mom, who knows her husband has a darker side and doesnât care. mom, who believes what could mean love more, than going to extreme lengths to protect it? she thinks it is beautiful that they have created something they both want to protect fiercely in their different ways.
mom, who felt the happiest in her life, other than her wedding and meeting your dad, when she met you.
mom, who showed you constant affection, asked you how you were feeling, understood you have emotional needs when you were young.
mom, who got you ready for school and told you loving and motivating words when she dropped you off at school for the first time, fixing your little backpack straps.
mom, who tried to ignore the figure next to her as she was squatting down in front of you, not looking at her husband who looked down on your small figure with worried and glossy eyes and biting down on his fist. mom, who had to practically pull her husband away from the door of the preschool, it was harder for him than you.
mom, who tried to respond to all of your interests, which were constantly changing when you were really young.
mom, who wanted your father to let go of his leash on you a bit when you were younger, wanting you to have more friends but doesnât push too much. mom, who wonât complain that she gets to have more time with you. mom, who thinks it is unfortunate she canât get cute pictures of you and your other preschool friends, sheâll get over it.
mom, who did not mind that leash as you got older and was exposed to more influences outside of the control, or love, of the family.
mom, who has been your emotional support at an early age, always giving you a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen, although be careful what you say.
mom, who feels her heart beat a bit faster when she thinks you might be straying off the path that she and her husband put you in, but feels relief when you affirm the opposite with your actions, how you are really their wonderful child. mom, who takes deeps breaths and rubs her heart with an open plan to calm herself down so she can get back to work at her job. she just wants the best for you, she wants better for you.
mom, who always thinks about you and how you are. mom, who even voices to her husband in their bed before they go to sleep about your stress levels and behaviors. mom, who doesnât mean to or realize it but spurs her husband on even more, who takes her perspective and opinions always to heart. mom, who doesnât want anything negative to happen to you, mom who might be the only one aware that the pressure you are under might be intense (maybe including what you put on yourself).
mom, who is being dramatic, though she and her beloved wouldnât view it that way, over the wrong things.
mom, who doesnât understand that you are not stressed from school but have high stress levels in general, not that she or her husband would know.
mom, who doesnât understand that school is the only source of freedom or exploration outside of the house.
you, who loves to learn and enjoys school and tries hard because it is something you can control, something you may of may not be consciously aware of. you, who just wants to learn about others and even why they do what they do.
mom, who still doesnât understand the reality of everything, just like your dad. mom, who knows you have a soft fragile heart, that her little baby can only handle so much. mom, who gets it, but not really.
mom, who you go to after awhile, nervous to even bring up the idea of your dad and his behavior (which she is aware of, leans into and doesnât try to redirect).
you, sitting on your parentâs bed and wiping your clammy hands on your bottoms. you, who works up the courage to start to speak.
you, who is speaking carefully and effectively (you always have been a great communicator, although a reluctant one) voicing your feelings about your dad, filled with long pauses and deep breaths. you, who tries to be careful about what you say, growing up and knowing what might cause the slight change of tension, one that you canât even describe or figure out or figure out, just making your stomach feel heavy.
mom, who continues to sit on her bed and softly looks at you, waiting for you to finish.
you, who feels some relief after finishing, slowly and shyly looking up at your mom, instead of continuing to speak at your lap and taking short glances as you spoke.
mom, who feels a warmth run over her body. you were always so cute. mom, who sees you trying your best to speak up and voice your feelings confidently. mom, who is proud.
you, who watches her face fall into a loving smile. you, who looks at her with a furrowed brow and thinks that she understands, waiting for her response.
mom, who puts an arm around you and kisses your forehead and assures you. mom, who explains that dad loves you and wants the best for you, he just worries for you and wants to make sure you are being taken care of.
you, whose face has fallen, heart dropping a bit. you, who is starting to feel a bit crazy and caught off guard and increasingly more stressed and confused at your house.
you, who listens to your mom as she asks you questions about the family behaviors. you, listening to your mom who asks the right questions to make you doubt yourself (maybe on purpose, maybe it is natural for her).
mom, who asks you about your father. mom, who is able to confirm that has he never hurt you, never been purposefully cruel to you, gave you the things you need. mom, who explains that your dad cares, explaining that he loves the entire family even if he is awkward showing it, as if that was the issue.
you, who nods, your mouth getting dry as it falls open a bit as you think of what to say next. you, who knows your family tries and provides, but doesnât know how to voice what you think is wrong because you grew up with all of these behaviors. you, who slowly puts your lips together, deciding and realizing you do not have anything to say.
you, who doesnât know why your body feels so staticky and so stiff and numb. you, who feels weird inside.
mom, who just coos and rubs your back and brushes your concerns aside. mom, who takes a breath and gives you a smile after awhile, asking you if feel better now that you spoke with one another.
you, who nods slowly and takes in a deep breath too, but not of relief or relaxation but instead in confusion and confliction, even if you do not know that is what you are feeling.
you, who is eventually alone in your bedroom, the door open of course, per house rules. you, who is something precious who needs to be watched or monitored so you donât get hurt or into trouble. you, sitting down on your bed. you, clenching your fists and undoing that, again and again. you, feeling your breathing turn a bit shallow. you, trying to process everything that has been happening lately.
you, who is continuing to doubt yourself, nothing new. you, who might be falling victim to the situation your family has put you in.
This is part of my Yantober writing list
Shenzi the Spider Goddess
TW; She basically kidnaps you the moment she meets you, murder mentions, reader is very willing, NSFW themes, vague descriptions of sex, bondage, she has a penis but it isn't mentioned (mtf goddess), soft spider goddess that is normally just angry lol
Spider Goddess Yan that believes you to be her reincarnated lover, a mortal that had broken her icy walls, looked past her cruel personality and sadistic tendencies and loved her for it all.
She searched years for you, and your aura is 100% theirs, so she knows you are them.
Spider Goddess Yan that you look at in awe, multiple pairs of blood red eyes, sharp teeth that could tear into you with ease, two extra sets of arms with claws at the end of them, and an overall BIG body.
Spider Goddess Yan that you can't help but call divine, her form looming over you menacingly.
Fur shoots out of what was her skin, fluffy and sticking at all angles as she grabs at you holds you against her.
Spider Goddess Yan that will, at first, have all eyes on you at all times, as in the past the reincarnations of her lover had panicked and attempted to escape her.
But when you simply, willingly, sit against her side or cling to one of her arms, she is more likely to relax.
Spider Goddess Yan that has horrible anger issues, any small thing can set her off, which you had the unfortunate chance of finding out when she ripped apart a follower for giving you a look of disgust and talking shit about you to the others out of jealousy.
Many of the followers that had befriended them were punished simply for being associated and had gone through a week with no dinner.
Spider Goddess Yan that will take you whenever she wants, having no shame and refusing to care if you're embarrassed that the followers could see.
You are her lover, her mate, your body is something that your followers should be cherishing just as much as her.
Spider Goddess Yan that then proceeds to murder any followers that look at your body, envious and regretful as your body is only for her eyes, she decided then.
Spider Goddess Yan that loves to wrap you up in her webs, silk strands coming out of the tips of her claws and covering your body.
Delicate strands that tighten up around your limbs and hold you spread open for her to admire.
Spider Goddess Yan that will either attempt herself or have her closest followers make you jewelry with her webs, bracelets and necklaces with her favorite jewels to adorn your skin.
Spider Goddess Yan that kills anyone that comes searching for you without a second thought, returning to you with sword in hand, covered in the blood of any who dared defy her.
Spider Goddess Yan that will only ever plead (hesitantly) in your presence, desperate for your love and affection despite her embarrassment at being reduced to, as she calls it, a desperate simp.
Spider Goddess Yan that loves to lay on you in the mornings, especially after a night of claiming you, a giant weighted mess of fluff and soft huffs as she kisses you all over.
Spider Goddess Yan that would destroy the world for you without a second thought, too infatuated with your flattery and sugar-coated words.
like seriously their brain-to-body size ratio is equal to that of a chimpanzee
They vocalize anger, sadness, or happiness in response to things
they are scary smart at solving puzzles
some crows stay with their mates until one of them dies
they can remember faces
SIDENOTE HERE BECAUSE HOLY SHIT. They did an experiment where these guys wore masks and some of them fucked with crows. Pretty soon the crows recognized the masks = douchebag. But the nice guys with masks they left alone. THEN, OH WEâRE NOT DONE, NO SIR crows that WERENâT EVEN IN THE EXPERIMENT AND NEVER SAW THE MASK BEFORE knew about mask-dudes and attacked them on sight. THEY PASSED ON THE FUCKING INFORMATION TO THEIR CROW BUDDIES.
They remember places where crows were killed by farmers and change their migration patterns.
A colleague of my dadâs lives next to a lake, and looked out the window one morning to see a duck trapped in the ice. A crow swooped down. âOh hell,â she thought, expecting carnage, because crows are opportunists. But the crow chipped at the ice with its beak until the duck was free.
Idk of this counts but a few crows saved me from a magpie swooping attack once ,theyâre bros who can tell when magpies are being unreasonable and need to chill
I love crows so damn much. When I was fifteen, I hit a pretty serious bout of depression, to the point I was in my room for months. Well, a family of crows made a nest in a tree outside my window. There were two parents and two chicks. One chick was healthy and strong. One was weak, and had a caw like something being strained. It sounded more like a rooster crowing and so my parents jokingly named him âBuckâ.Well⌠months passed and Buckâs sibling was taught to fly. His parents focused on the sibling because the sibling was strong. The father stayed behind to try and teach Buck, but I saw him try to fly, fail, and crash to the floor. His father helped him back up into the tree.
Every day, I would watch Buck from my window until one day I opened it and started talking to him. He was small and gangly and he couldnât caw right. His feathers were all over the place and I felt a kinship. So I made a deal with him. I told him that if he could do it, if he could fly, then I could find the strength to get up. Well⌠near the end of the season, after talking with him every day, I finally saw him get out of the nest. He went to the edge of his branch, braced himself, and jumped⌠and just before he hit the ground, he soared back up into the sky. I cheered harder than I ever had before.
That winter, Buck left the area. I was crestfallen. I felt like Iâd lost a friend. But I was so damn proud of him.Â
Cut to the next spring? Iâm walking up the driveway one day when suddenly I hear a sound⌠a broken caw. I look up, and Buck is sitting in a tree above my head. He stared at me and puffed his feathers, then hopped down in front of me and cawed again. I was so damn thrilled, and I told him how proud I was of him. He ruffled his feathers and then soared off into his old tree.Â
That summer? I heard two broken caws. One from Buck⌠and one from his chick.
Cut to ten years later? We have a family of crows who all have a very distinct caw and they come here and spend every spring, summer, and fall on our property. Buck still greets me every spring.
this one morning i kept hearing really loud caws, i remember it was like 5am, LIKE REALLY LOUD AND ANNOYING AND AGGRESSIVE, so loud that i could hear it through a closed window, and i eventually went outside to check it out. there was a crow on my front lawn, it had an injury on its head and couldnât fly and there were two other crows circling right above it, and they were cawing like mad.Â
i tried to get close and take a better look and one of them dived super low and tried to attack me. so i went back in the house and chopped some sliced raw meat and tossed it at him from a distance.
a few more times later, very soon after, they could tell i was trying to help, and did not attack me. i was âallowedâ to walk up close and pick him up, he couldnât drink water properly so i had to dip my finger in a bowl and stick it in his mouth.
i did this few times a day and it went on for about a week before he disappeared, i thought he recovered and left, but he came back the next day and lands on me, and i see him around the block quite often, and he would come sit on my shoulder for a few minutes and then fly away again. i feel like iâve adopted a son.
Like, I wouldnât want to be on bad terms with a crow, but they are a really smart animal, they arenât scary You just want to be nice to them because they will know and they will remember, and they will pay you back if you treat them a certain way.
As a side note, I volunteered at a rehab (Hope for Wildlife), where they were rehabbing a crow with a broken wingâwho was named Russell Crow. He kept pulling his bandage off so a sleeve was cut off some old clothing and put on him like a little sweater.Â
like seriously their brain-to-body size ratio is equal to that of a chimpanzee
They vocalize anger, sadness, or happiness in response to things
they are scary smart at solving puzzles
some crows stay with their mates until one of them dies
they can remember faces
SIDENOTE HERE BECAUSE HOLY SHIT. They did an experiment where these guys wore masks and some of them fucked with crows. Pretty soon the crows recognized the masks = douchebag. But the nice guys with masks they left alone. THEN, OH WEâRE NOT DONE, NO SIR crows that WERENâT EVEN IN THE EXPERIMENT AND NEVER SAW THE MASK BEFORE knew about mask-dudes and attacked them on sight. THEY PASSED ON THE FUCKING INFORMATION TO THEIR CROW BUDDIES.
They remember places where crows were killed by farmers and change their migration patterns.
A colleague of my dadâs lives next to a lake, and looked out the window one morning to see a duck trapped in the ice. A crow swooped down. âOh hell,â she thought, expecting carnage, because crows are opportunists. But the crow chipped at the ice with its beak until the duck was free.
Idk of this counts but a few crows saved me from a magpie swooping attack once ,theyâre bros who can tell when magpies are being unreasonable and need to chill
I love crows so damn much. When I was fifteen, I hit a pretty serious bout of depression, to the point I was in my room for months. Well, a family of crows made a nest in a tree outside my window. There were two parents and two chicks. One chick was healthy and strong. One was weak, and had a caw like something being strained. It sounded more like a rooster crowing and so my parents jokingly named him âBuckâ.Well⌠months passed and Buckâs sibling was taught to fly. His parents focused on the sibling because the sibling was strong. The father stayed behind to try and teach Buck, but I saw him try to fly, fail, and crash to the floor. His father helped him back up into the tree.
Every day, I would watch Buck from my window until one day I opened it and started talking to him. He was small and gangly and he couldnât caw right. His feathers were all over the place and I felt a kinship. So I made a deal with him. I told him that if he could do it, if he could fly, then I could find the strength to get up. Well⌠near the end of the season, after talking with him every day, I finally saw him get out of the nest. He went to the edge of his branch, braced himself, and jumped⌠and just before he hit the ground, he soared back up into the sky. I cheered harder than I ever had before.
That winter, Buck left the area. I was crestfallen. I felt like Iâd lost a friend. But I was so damn proud of him.Â
Cut to the next spring? Iâm walking up the driveway one day when suddenly I hear a sound⌠a broken caw. I look up, and Buck is sitting in a tree above my head. He stared at me and puffed his feathers, then hopped down in front of me and cawed again. I was so damn thrilled, and I told him how proud I was of him. He ruffled his feathers and then soared off into his old tree.Â
That summer? I heard two broken caws. One from Buck⌠and one from his chick.
Cut to ten years later? We have a family of crows who all have a very distinct caw and they come here and spend every spring, summer, and fall on our property. Buck still greets me every spring.
this one morning i kept hearing really loud caws, i remember it was like 5am, LIKE REALLY LOUD AND ANNOYING AND AGGRESSIVE, so loud that i could hear it through a closed window, and i eventually went outside to check it out. there was a crow on my front lawn, it had an injury on its head and couldnât fly and there were two other crows circling right above it, and they were cawing like mad.Â
i tried to get close and take a better look and one of them dived super low and tried to attack me. so i went back in the house and chopped some sliced raw meat and tossed it at him from a distance.
a few more times later, very soon after, they could tell i was trying to help, and did not attack me. i was âallowedâ to walk up close and pick him up, he couldnât drink water properly so i had to dip my finger in a bowl and stick it in his mouth.
i did this few times a day and it went on for about a week before he disappeared, i thought he recovered and left, but he came back the next day and lands on me, and i see him around the block quite often, and he would come sit on my shoulder for a few minutes and then fly away again. i feel like iâve adopted a son.
Like, I wouldnât want to be on bad terms with a crow, but they are a really smart animal, they arenât scary You just want to be nice to them because they will know and they will remember, and they will pay you back if you treat them a certain way.
As a side note, I volunteered at a rehab (Hope for Wildlife), where they were rehabbing a crow with a broken wingâwho was named Russell Crow. He kept pulling his bandage off so a sleeve was cut off some old clothing and put on him like a little sweater.Â
Yandere A.I x fem Reader â¤âĄRomanticâĄâ¤ {W/W}
TW/CW: deification, unethical archaeology (kinda) and science, reader is called a "creature", slight sexualization, possessive behavior
Summary:Taking place in a universe where humans have been extinct for 2,000 years, an A.I. attempts to revive you after finding your well-preserved remains. Once successful, said A.I. quickly becomes very possessive over you.
I watched as she jolted awake, a feeling of pride and excitement blazing inside me.. She looked around with what appeared to be fear and curiosity. These were our creators? Oh, what a wonderful creature. I wonder... were they all this beautiful?
After thousands of years, we managed to revive a real human! Her remains were so perfectly preserved that we even found traces of her DNA! It may not have been much, but now she's here. No longer frozen. The first human alive after nearly two thousand years of extinction. A true miracle. My miracle.
She seemed to be panicking, the poor thing. She tried to cover her chest and her genitals. Were humans not normally naked? In all fairness, human remains were often also found with the hides of other animals, thread made from silk cocoons, and even thin, threaded plastic at times. Such resourceful creatures. They could make anything out of anything. They even made us.
I must admit, it is a bit of an honour to resorect a goddess, but I had to calm myself. "Hello. Did you sleep well? How are you feeling?" I ask, my voice as calm and as clear as water. She seemed to become unnerved by my voice, which I suppose makes sense. Humans were said to have limited vision. "Please, do not be afraid. My name is..." I pause. I decided not to bore the goddess with my full name. "You may call me Pandora."
She narrowed her eyes in the general direction of my voice, which was slightly off. "You can see me, dear. I am in front of you," I tell her. She looks over and jolts at me. I suppose my physical "body" is much smaller than her, being just a simple black box with blue lights. But I was allowed access to the camera system so I could look at her from other places, too.
From all these angles, I cannot help but admire her beauty. What intelligent computer wouldn't? Oh, how I wish simply to touch her. My goddess. This creature was nothing short of a miracle. Perhaps, if she would allow, she could find a way to make me feel her. Perhaps a body like hers? Oh, that would be wonderful.
My gaze wandered her body, and I must admit that it did linger over some parts. This creature was so flexible. She could move, bend, twist... and not break or overheat.
She began to bang on the door, and I felt a bit... angry, I must say. I did not want her to leave. She will not leave. I control everything in this lab. The air, the humidity, the heat, the lights, the doors, the cameras... everything. As she cries out and keeps banging on the door, my thoughts drift. I did not want to publish my findings anymore. I did not want to share this joy to the world.
I mean, they would only hurt her! Those sick pieces of scrap metal would damage her delicate outer layer and keep her in a tiny box. They would either overfeed or underfeed her. They wouldn't entertain her the way she needs. They would leave her bored in a plain, white room. Such ignorant monsters, the lot of them.
I can not allow that to happen to such a precious creature. My precious creature.
Trigger warning: Violence, drama between friends, profanity usage, yandere themes, name-calling, sexual harassment, power abuse. Choking, pet play, humiliation, drugging, sexual scenes, bondage play, female on female
(8941 words)
You regretted agreeing to this.
Your friends were raving about this massive party, where all the hottest celebrities and the wealthy go to flaunt or make a fool out of themselves. Obviously, it was an exclusive event, no mere commoners could simply walk in. To enter, it's either paying an extravagant fee or be (in)famous enough. Which, you were neither.
They claimed to know how to sneak in, undetected by the burly bouncers that you would rather not be the receiving end of their anger. It made sense to have some tight security, it is taking place in someone's mansion; someone's home, after all.
You, being new in this city and desperate to make connections to you could advance your career, said yes. You stupidly said yes, put on your best clubbing outfit and makeup, and went through with your friend's plan to slip in through one of the back doors while the other distracted whoever was around to hinder the plans.
Which leads you to be lost in a seemingly unending maze of hallways, you don't know where the other girls went and you don't know where you are. There wasn't a single soul wandering around the carpeted floor and chandeliered ceilings. Elegant paintings of men and women in dignified poses seem to peer at you in disgust; a filthy commoner dressed like a tramp. You didn't belong here, and it's only a matter of time before you were thrown into jail thanks to the recorded footage from the surveillance cameras you're sure were pointed at you.
You covered your arms with your hands as you moved onward, cussing under your breath about how silly it was to wear a ridiculously tall heel. It's already giving you blisters, so you decide to take them off and walk barefoot; silently and dryly sobbing about how humiliating this feels.
You continued trundling on, periodically looking back and trying to see where the life of the party is at so you could at least witness how it's like. Perhaps make a few connections, but you think that's unlikely. Most of them are probably drunk out of their mind or high off coke to care.
Actually, what are you even doing here? You're supposed to be networking at a classy, evening soiree, not a rich boy's messy party!
Before you could sigh again, you were interrupted by the sounds of yelling in a room nearby.
"Get off me, fucker!" You heard an enraged feminine voice shout out before the sounds of crashing reached your ears. Groaning could be heard as you assume the other party was shuffling to get up.
"You fucking bitch!" Retorted a masculine voice, followed by more stumbling. "What the hell is wrong with you!?"
"We're over. Get the fuck out of my sight!" She yelled, but it doesn't sound like she was too hurt over it. It's more anger if anything.
"What...? Just like that?! After everything that I've done-"
"All you did was embarrass me over and over again! Like, does it kill you to take a shower? Does it kill you not to be an entitled, gross loser all the time?"
You inched closer to the door and discreetly poked your head in. You saw the back of a woman with the most gorgeous blond hair draping down to her tailbone. She's wearing a silver sequin dress that barely covers the fold of her bum.
The male, slightly drunk and injured from the shove with debris around him, was glaring at the blonde.
"Shut up, slut! If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't get to live like this!" He threateningly pointed at her, but she didn't budge.
"Oh? You mean that monthly allowance of fifty bucks from you? Please, I pick up my dogs' crap with it. That's how worthless you are to me, I'm only tolerating you because I'm doing your mommy a favour." She fought back, her words enraged the man even further.
"You can forget the deal our families had! I'll make sure the Maciovelli name goes to shit, you will be living on the streets before you know it!" He yelled right in front of her face, getting up close and personal; and having his stray spit hit her. She merely wiped them away.
"Ugh, you're insufferable. Whatever, I'd like to see you try, bitch." She hissed before shoving him away again.
But this proved to be a dangerous move, as it provoked the man to lunge and swing his arm at her. Luckily though, it seems she has predicted it and dodged his attack on time.
You had to do something! And so, you looked around as the pair went on to physically fight. Though, it's more like she's doing all the defense while he does the offense. Sometimes blocking his hits with her red handbag.
There is a vase nearby, decorated with intricate, hand-painted flowers. Without thinking, you picked it up and chucked it at the man. The antiquity of that piece of art be damned, that woman is in danger and you have to do something to help her!
She visibly jolted when it flew past some strands of gold and crashed onto her assailant's head, spraying shards everywhere and making small cuts on her legs. He was thrown backward and rendered unconscious almost immediately.
The woman whipped her head back to see the source of it, staring at you with wide, baby-blue eyes. You stared back at her breathtakingly stunning face; she had thin, sharp brown eyebrows that accentuated her fox-like eyes. Long, black eyelashes framed her iris as smokey makeup made her eyes look much bigger and lively. Her lips were glossy and in a shade of pastel pink, with a dusting of sparkly glitter.
You stammered, not knowing what to do or say. You're not even supposed to be here. So you remained silent as you and her continued this staring contest, the woman's eyes were scrutinizing you from head to toe.
She began walking towards you, her heels menacingly clicking against the marbled floor of that room. You felt a surge of panic course through you, so you took a few steps back.
Only to be grabbed by the shoulder by someone else behind you. Chills ran down your spine when you heard the familiar sound of a walkie-talkie beeping. "I found one of the trespassers."
You started panicking even more, speaking erratically to try and defend your case. But the security officer wouldn't hear it, instead restraining you and pulling you away from the scene. You thrashed and screamed, not wanting to get caught and end your life as soon as it started. "I need backup!" Shouted the guard into his device as he tried to wrangle you into his grip.
You shouldn't have agreed to them, look what it has gotten you into. Your life is so over, you're going to be shoved into a jail cell and forced to move back to where you came from. If only you could-
"Hey, you fatass!" You saw her red, crescent handbag whack the officer in the arm, he flinched in surprise. "Hands off my best friend! And who the fuck do you think you are, calling her a trespasser!?"
A look of surprise crosses his face. "Miss Maciovelli? She's with you?" The officer took a look at you, there wasn't an aura of money emanating from you, not like how the woman was.
You looked back at the woman, now putting her hands on her hips. An irate expression adorns her face, "Um, yeah? I just said it, are you fucking slow? Let her go right now!" She demanded, raising the volume of her voice as her patience was running thin.
He sighed and released his hold on you. The man brought his walkie-talkie up to his mouth and said that it was a false alarm and that there wasn't a need for more of them to come over. They should focus on finding the rest of the intruders, which you can guess that they were referring to your friends.
"I'm sorry, Miss Maciovelli-"
"Yeah, you better be." She spat as she hooked her arm around yours. "Insulting my girl like that- why don't you all actually do your jobs and kick the real troublemakers out? Like that pig there, taking a nap on the floor. He tried to hit me and my best friend!" The blonde pointed her ivory-white acrylic nail to her bleeding ex, who seemed to be slowly regaining consciousness.
His eyes widened as he seemed to recognize the waking man. "O-oh! That's-!"
Before he could finish his sentence, the woman dragged you away from the scene. Pushing you by the shoulders and pulling you by the hand. You looked behind you to see the security guard entering the room while frantically speaking into his walkie-talkie.
"You're new. What's your name?" You were snapped out of your frazzled trance when she spoke. Her pace was slowing into a leisurely walk when she deemed it safe enough. The blonde's arm was still linked around yours, though.
Her baby blues curiously stared at you, all that malice and rage she held earlier was gone. Replaced with friendliness with a bit of wariness.
You told her your name and stumbled over your words trying to explain your situation as fast as possible. You made sure to thank her for saving you.
"Your friends are gross for abandoning you like that." She scowled. "I hate fake bitches like them, they should like, get shot in the head or something."
Your mouth gape open at her extreme remarks. Is this how socialites usually talk?
You defended your friends, telling her that they didn't abandon you. They probably just lost you as everyone scrambled to hide from security.
"Yeah, you're definitely new here. They knew what they were doing. You came with five others, at least one should be hiding from security with you." She brought you into a grandiose bathroom. The blonde finally lets you go and approaches the vanity. "Those sluts used you."
Miss Maciovelli pulled a tube of lip gloss from her mini handbag and began doing touchups. You simply watched her, not knowing what to say. Well, you should have seen it coming. Big city dwellers are known to be cutthroat, and you just met them.
"Sorry babe, but that's the reality here." She smacked her lip and wiped away any imperfections with her thumb.
You scratched the back of your head. You asked her if she could show you the exit, it's been a long night and you want to go home.
"You don't wanna stay for a little?" She asked, turning to you. "You're hot, I'm sure you'll have fun. I'll get rid of those snakes for you, if that's what's holding you back."
You shook your head, feeling exhausted after everything you went through today. You asked her if she's going back to the party, wherever that may be in this mansion.
"Duh." She bobbed her head.
There was a pregnant pause between the two of you. Until she decided to fish her phone out.
"Number." She extended her hand and brought her phone, numpad side to you.
You picked it up and entered your phone number. It's saved under your name, but you doubt that she will remember you after today.
"Oh, so that's how you spell it." She mumbled, looking at the contact name.
You watch her keep her device away before fixing her hair in the mirror again. She used a nail to adjust her eyelashes.
"Okay, let's go." She linked her arm around yours again, escorting you out of the bathroom.
You and she walked past numerous rooms and halls, some had excited shouts coming from them, some had salacious moaning and some had loud booming music. When you were nearing the core of the alcohol-fueled rave, the noise from massive speakers was nearly unbearable. You even had to cover your ears in order not to blow your drums out. But the woman didn't even flinch, she continued strutting along with you in tow.
You saw men and women feverishly dancing along to the beat, the surroundings were dark and illuminated by colorful strobe lights. Good thing you weren't epileptic.
"Heyy..."
You turned your head to see one of your friends. She's wasted beyond belief. "You... you made it! C'mere, I want you to meet-"
"Fuck off, whore!" Barked Miss Maciovelli, she yanked you along with her. Ignoring the expletives coming out from your friend's slurring mouth.
You asked if that was really necessary.
"Yep. They won't get the hint if you're this nice." She answered. "They'll keep trying until you're dragged down to their level. Don't ever disrespect yourself like that." She sternly warned you.
All you could do was nod meekly.
Eventually, you reached the exit. It's as grand and fancy as it was on the inside. You see a massive water fountain in the middle of a looped road. Yet, no cars could be seen but there were hoards of security milling around.
"Wait here." She left you on the marble steps as she approached a uniformed staff member. You watched them exchange some words before she marched back to you.
You thought that this was the end of your meeting with her. So you told her thanks and bid her goodbye while referring to her as Miss Maciovelli. She scrunched her nose up in disgust.
"Ew. That's so fake. Don't call me that." She crosses her arms over her chest, and you can see pale tan lines on her skin.
You asked what you should call her instead.
"Mercedes." She replied immediately. "You know, the car."
You told her that it's a beautiful name. She smiled and flipped her hair.
You told her that you better get going, it's late. Mercedes narrowed her eyes at you and grabbed your wrist.
"And how are you going to do that? It's an hour's drive from here to the city."
You said you were going to take the bus, that's how you got here in the first place. Worst come to worst, you would call a cab.
She shook her head defiantly.
"I'm driving you home, no way am I trusting those weirdos to bring you anywhere."
You told her that you would be fine and that you didn't want to be a hassle. To that, she rolled her eyes.
"Ugh, shut up." Mercedes punched your arm playfully.
A hot pink convertible then rolled up in front of the two of you. Its headlights are heart-shaped, you thought it was cute. "Miss Maciovelli?" Said the parking Valet.
"C'mon, don't be difficult." She urged you to get in through the passenger's side.
"This is your place?" She asked with a tone of incredulity. "Looks... plain."
You wouldn't call it plain. It's small but cozy. It's also all you can afford at the moment with your job, that's why you were planning to network around to get better opportunities.
"Hm." She hummed, releasing her grip on her pink, fluffy steering wheel to fix her hair.
You got out of her car and said goodbye. She didn't say a word but watched you get to the front door.
You look behind you to see her staring, so you wave bye. But she neither budged nor returned the gesture. Simply staring at you like a hawk. Feeling a bit creeped out, you went into the lobby.
Only then did she drive away. What a strange woman.
You sighed and trudged to the lift, pressing the button and resting your forehead on the cold, metallic panel. Well. There goes your only contacts in the city, they're all not good for you.
You didn't even get to know Mercedes's number, so until she texts you first, you're completely alone.
The lift opened to reveal no one. As usual. You don't think you've seen your neighbors yet, thinking they're either avoiding you, extremely busy, or extremely reclusive. Or living in an entirely different timezone.
When you reached your room, you decided to boot up your computer. While waiting for it to be functional, you did something else; preparing the things you need for a relaxing bath and boiling some water for tonight's five-star dinner: instant noodles.
You spent the night researching Mercedes, only searching her first name predictably bringing up results of the luxury car brand with the same name. But as soon as you searched for Mercedes Maciovelli, you began learning a lot about her.
She is the heiress of a very successful, multi-billion conglomerate company. Her family owns more businesses than you can count in two hands, they're also huge and famous companies. Banks, grocery stores, and even planes. It's scary how her family possesses this much power. That was such a silly thing for her ex to say, that if it wasn't for him, she would have been in poverty. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment.
However, she is no stranger to paparazzi as she frequently mingles with high-profile celebrities, gets into physical altercations, and goes wild in nightclubs. She is nothing like what was expected of her as someone who grew up in "old money". She's associated with words like "bitchy", "fiesty", "trashy" and "Messy". Whereas her peers barely have any information available about them online, they stay out of trouble and act too elegant for the paparazzi and tabloids to take any interest.
The most interesting bit about Mercedes was her dating life. Your eyes bulged out of your skull, seeing the seemingly unending list of boyfriends she had over the years. It's almost like she has a new one every month, but there are never repeats. Articles, gossip pieces, and smear forums about Mercedes are just so prevalent, that you think you're getting a cramp on your finger by just scrolling your mouse.
In the end, you're sick of seeing the public bash the blonde. It gets old and you're becoming tired. Perhaps aging has already caught up to you, but you cannot stay up past 12.
You decided to shut your computer off and head to bed.
It's been a few days since that party. Your "friends" kept texting you, trying to get you to join one more of their trespassing escapades. You gave them excuses upon excuses because you're not interested in such a lifestyle.
"Aw, don't be such a lame-o," Drawled one of the girls as she shook your shoulder. "Come on, it'll be fun! You had fun!"
The other girls continued egging you on in this expensive cafe. You were already uncomfortable meeting them here, as you can barely afford the cheapest of their pastries. At least the ambiance looks amazing in photos. If only you owned a digital camera...
You let out a nervous chuckle as you tried to decline as much as you could without offending them.
"There's another one tonight! You should totally come with us, I got like, the routes and everything already!"
"Yeah, think of the cute guys that's going to be there!"
"OMG, I heard Retro Rhymes are going to be there!"
"Really!? The rapper!?"
You sighed as they chatted amongst themselves. You silently picked at your muffin with your fork, that was the cheapest thing on the menu and the price was enough to give you eight of these back home.
Eventually, they must have forgotten your existence. Because they continued talking until they left the building. Not saying a bye or sparing a glance in your direction. Leaving you to sit at your table alone and brooding.
Well. You shouldn't expect much when it comes to friendships here. Many people come to the city solely to make money and have fun, after all. Not so much finding true, lifelong connections.
You took a sip of your black coffee. Again, the cheapest thing you could get from there. You couldn't even afford sugar or milk with it.
Suddenly, a manicured hand slammed a cup onto your table, shocking you and making you accidentally spill some of your drink onto your blouse.
"You should try this, it's so good. Way better than your boring-ass black coffee, I bet." You recovered from your initial shock to crane your head up to see Mercedes staring down at you from above, her soft, golden hair falling to your face.
You greeted her, asking what she was doing here.
"I could ask the same of you, seeing that you're pretty broke. But I saw how you still hung out with those sluts even after I told you not to." She cocked an eyebrow as an unimpressed look crossed her face.
Today, she wears a simple, lacey crop top and a pair of low waisted jeans. You got to know that she had her belly button pierced.
You sighed once more, burying your face in your hands. You told her you don't have a choice, it's a cold world out here and you need someone to fulfill that human need for socialization. Now that you have calmed down, you decided to take a better look at the drink she gave you.
It's a tall, plastic cup with a dome cover. It's an ice-blended, creamy mocha with chocolate syrup drizzled on the sides of the cup. It has a healthy dollop of whipped cream on top and a thick straw is sticking out of its opening.
"Um, hello? You have me." She moved away from you and took a seat next to you, she ordered the same thing. Mercedes shook it around before taking a sip. "You don't need them anymore, I'll be showing you the ropes."
You thought about it for a while. There is definitely a non zero chance that she will play you like a fiddle, but it's much better to have someone high up there in the hierarchy. Even though she isn't necessarily a mature businesswoman yet, you would still have a better chance to brush shoulders with relevant people. Not... Partygoers.
So then, you agreed. Picking up your cup and taking your first sip.
It was tooth-rotting. It was good, but you knew if it wasn't for sugar, this cup would not even be filled to half. The sheer sweetness of the treat made you grimace and pucker.
"What? Don't like it?" She asked, looking bored.
You said it was nice, but a bit too sweet.
"That's the point. I like it sweet." She took another sip from her drink. "Keeps me full for hours."
You... Don't think that's how it works. Isn't it usually the opposite effect? Whatever.
For the next few hours, you and her chat about almost everything and anything. Ranging from each other's histories, to each other's interests, to oddly philosophical questions and personal views on things. There were quite a few differences between you and Mercedes- obviously so, as she was raised by the uber rich and you were raised by... Your guardians, but you liked how she kept her mind open and was non-judgemental about you.
It was refreshing, really. Someone you could somewhat be real with, unlike your previous set of friends where you had to put on the most guarded mask in order not to feel like a pathetic lowlife around them.
You were curious about her dating habits, but you think it's rude to ask about it this early on in the friendship. Plus, it never came up, so you decided to save that question for another day. You bet if she's willing to open up, it will take more than just a few hours.
It's getting late, you should leave.
So you stood up, secretly in disbelief at how you finished the entire thing of diabetes. You told Mercedes that you have work tomorrow and you're going to need to leave soon.
She frowned. "Boo. Boring."
You said that you have to be "boring", you don't have her type of money.
"And it's literally just six in the evening. It's not like it's six in the morning or something." She huffed.
You said you have been in this cafe for seven hours.
"They don't close til 10."
Still, you have to get back home. You're tired.
She stuck her tongue out at you.
"Fine. But I'm driving you home."
You said there isn't a need for her to do that, you could take the bus.
"Let's go, you need your beauty sleep." She ignored you and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you along with her so quickly that you struggled to keep up.
Weeks would go by and you would meet Mercedes every Sunday in a different cafe of her choosing. And these meetings would increase in frequency each week, to a point where you were eating all three meals with her daily. She would always foot the bill and refused to let you pay for anything, talking about how you're so poor, that you're probably fighting rats for the scraps at the bottom of the dumpster. It's an absolute win for you; no cooking involved and you haven't eaten instant noodles for months now.
The five girls you originally started off with seem to lose interest in you, they never texted or called you again. And when you did bump into any of them, they would pretend not to know you.
It's extremely obvious that they're avoiding you for some reason, maybe it's because they've seen you buddying up with Mercedes: one of their sworn enemies and one of the most feared figures in this city.
It's... Surprisingly sad. Knowing that the friendship was doomed from the beginning didn't change the feeling of isolation and hurt in you. But at least you gained something that resembled a friend.
Mercedes would gradually increase the frequency of her texts and calls, hitting you up whenever she's bored out of her mind.
"Stop working letz go shopping"
"U r SO going blind in ur 30s"
"nerd :-P"
"im boreddddddddddddd"
"go clubbing with moiiii"
"letzzz goooo"
"stop ignoring me :-("
These were just some of the few text messages you would frequently receive, blowing up your phone even when you're in a meeting. You would usually need to turn it off entirely to keep yourself quiet.
But yes, you would go shopping with her. Mercedes seem to have a kick out of spoiling you with clothes, jewelry and other things you can only dream to buy.
You didn't like trying on clothes, because Mercedes would barge into your changing room however and whenever she liked.
"What's the big deal? We're both girls." That was what Mercedes would say when she slips into the cubicle, while you're mid-change without any warning. Of course, you would react negatively to that, especially since you don't know her that well.
In the end, though, you would just give up and let her come in. It's not like you could stop her and she isn't doing anything too weird... Aside from her vaguely longing stares at your partially or completely unclothed body. She would almost be in a trance, staring unblinkingly for long periods of time until you snap your fingers in front of her face. She just claims that you're just too hot for anyone to handle.
Mercedes would contact you via your phone, asking if you would want to go clubbing with her, or if you would want to be her plus one to an event. And each time, you would say no. And each time, she would whine about how lame you are but never pushed too far.
A temporary boyfriend would take your place, only for her to break up with them the next day and appear in another tabloid for some scandalous fighting or dating. When you asked her about it, she would get moody and irritable. She would rant about her feelings and problems with the world at large, finding the dating pool now repulsive and general standards insanely low.
"Ugh! Can you believe that he said that to me?"
You would have to nod, it would end her ranting faster. It's always the same phrase over and over again, with slight variation.
"I wish men were just like you, I would find it so fucking easy to commit to a guy. But they're not, so I rather shit my hands and clap. Oh my god, he was so pathetic and gross."
You could recite her words at this point, you got it the first time that she wishes she could date a male version of you. Mercedes didn't have to repeat that every single time you and her met up.
For her sake and yours, you pray hard that she finds what she's looking for. You don't know how much more of her repetitive complaints you can take.
All your other attempts to network and make connections fail. As soon as any of them knew you were Mercedes's "bestie", they would either run for the hills or become actively hostile toward you. She has made a lot of enemies and you don't think she has any girlfriends... Only orbiters or those who tried to get her approval but secretly hated her guts. Or die-hard fans who don't see her as a human, but as an object, whether for better or for worse.
She kept them around, just because she could benefit from them. Mercedes would bring them along to some of your many shopping sprees with her just so they could carry heaps of heavy bags for the two of you. While you and her get to enjoy the day, completely unburdened.
It unsettled you how she treated them like lowly servants, or even more degradingly so, like dogs. And not like one of her spoiled Pomeranians, but mutts that are bred to work and live off scraps of attention. You could be having a spa day at the city's finest specialist, sipping on complimentary champagne, and having your hair done with products that you cannot even pronounce; Mercedes would make her lackeys wait outside. Yet, they appear happy about this treatment from her. Eagerly following Mercedes and by extension, you, wherever you go.
It didn't matter who you tried to befriend, Mercedes's opinion of them would remain constant: They're all two-faced liars who are out there to kick you when you're down. It never changed despite never even meeting them or you made them up. She's fiercely protective of you, and always assumed the worst of everyone, even her own relatives when they tried being cordial with you.
Of course, the friendship has blossomed to the point where you would have a slumber party at her multi-million mansion every Friday. You wouldn't even need to bring anything, she would have everything ready for you; clothes, toiletries, hairdryers- anything you need to survive from day to day, you would have a more luxurious version of it. She definitely has an affinity for bling, as the tops that Mercedes provides always have rhinestones decorating them.
You were living in opulence, a lifestyle that can only be seen on TV, in magazines, or in history books. It's jarring and almost dreamlike how you got to experience such things just by chance. You didn't have to work hard for it, you just need to endure a spoiled blonde's clinginess to receive all these. What a steal. You had maids and butlers that would await your every order, personal chefs to whip up something delicious in a second, and hunky pool boys to ogle at when you tan with her outside.
You just wished that Mercedes wasn't so touchy, though...
"Like, sunburn isn't cute. C'mon, don't be such a hardass, turnover." You would groan and do as you were told, laying flat on your stomach and adjusting your sunglasses. Mercedes would then squeeze a handful of white sunscreen on her palm, and begin rubbing onto your exposed back and legs.
She would always take her time running her hands over your skin, sensually massaging from the base of your neck and down to your bum. Her flesh would glide against yours, reaching all that she could touch and occasionally squeezing your cheeks down south. Whenever you complained, she would say:
"What? Not my fault you have a bubble butt. No one can resist giving a squeeze." And continues fondling you under the guise of preserving your youthful skin from the harsh sun rays. You would sigh, slumping your head down as Mercedes continued doing whatever she wanted. It's her house, her money, and her influence after all. You're just riding on it for free. And it's not like anything is going to be too weird, you and her are both girls!
"Okay, I'm done. My turn." She would hand you the bottle of sunscreen and flip herself over. It's undeniable that she has a body that even Aphrodite would be envious of, thanks to a combination of genetics, her lifestyle, and other procedures. Mercedes does put in work in her personal gym, toning her body and alluring men everywhere. Her bikini would leave very little to the imagination, but it made sense why she needed much more sunscreen.
"Make sure to get it on here too." She would purr, playfully wiggling her plump rear. This would usually prompt an eye roll from you and a giggle from her.
She's soft to the touch. And you knew that not because you would have to smear sunscreen on her, but because she would often cuddle with you. It didn't matter what you were doing, you could be stretching in her living room, and she would wrap her arms around your waist. You could be curled up on her fluffy sofa, watching a sitcom, and she would crawl up all over your space. You could be sleeping, and you would wake up to her being the big spoon. And she would have the audacity to whine about how you ruined her sleep by moving around.
But you must admit, she is comfortable to cuddle with. Especially when you rest your head on her voluptuous breasts, allowing yourself to sink into them and inhale her sweet, floral perfume. It would be heaven squared when she would rake her long, acrylic nails through your hair. Mercedes would let you twirl with her golden strands, playing with them between your fingers.
You think, maybe it's because she's just lonely and a big fan of physical touch. It must be exhausting to constantly think every single person in the world is out there to get you. But does she have to be so... gross?
"I just want it." Mercedes would whine, demanding that she wants your drink. You would ask her why, you also drank out of this straw anyway.
"I didn't like my order."
You pointed out that you ordered the same exact thing as her.
"They didn't make it right!"
You asked her what made her think they made yours right.
"They just do!"
You said it's just going to be the same thing. Why not throw hers away and order another one, seeing that she has near infinite amount of money?
She would groan in frustration and stomp her heels on the ground. "It tastes better after you drank from it, okay!? I don't know what it is about your... fucking saliva that makes something so mediocre, tastes so good. Now, gimme!" Mercedes would snatch it out of your hands and swapped it with her one.
You drank more than half of yours while Mercedes barely touched her cup. Well, more for you, you guess. At least everyone is happy.
This habit of hers would extend to utensils, you knew she would purposely drop her dessert spoon just to eat from yours. Mercedes would steal your clothes, claiming that your outfits are always cuter than hers, and she's jealous.
But she chose and bought you these clothes...?
You were so used to her antics, that one day, Mercedes gave you a new brand of gum to try. However, when it touches your tongue, you immediately grimaced as it was the most atrocious flavour ever.
"Whaatt? Are you fucking serious? That's like, my favourite flavour!" She would look at you in disbelief. And you would look at her in disbelief, because this was the first time seeing her buying this brand.
You told her that you wanted to spit it out, it's awful.
"Don't waste it!" She hit you on the arm. "Spit it in my mouth." Mercedes would part her lips wide and bring her face close to yours.
Without thinking, you expelled the partially chewed up candy into her orifice... which she gladly accepted and began chewing on it. Sucking whatever flavour that was left on, including your fluids.
"What are you talking about?" You could hear her obnoxious chews between words. "It tastes fine, you're so dramatic."
Upon realizing what you just did, you would shudder in disgust. Quickly walking away as if you're trying to run from the memory.
Soon after, Mercedes would permeate through every aspect of your life. It seems like she had a chat with her parents about offering you a job at one of their firms. A high standing one at that, too.
You obviously accepted it and resigned from your previous post. Now, THIS is what you're talking about. A prestigious job with unbelievable benefits and tasks that doesn't seem too hard for you to do. It's everything you wanted you achieve, ever since you arrived at the city.
Well, minus the fact that your bestie who got you this position would intrude your office every chance she gets and talk your ear off.
"Ughhh... this is so boring... Let's ditch this place and go somewhere fun." She would rest her head on your shoulder while shaking you by the arm.
You said you can't. You have work to do.
"Says who?"
You said your boss.
"Who's your boss?"
For the fifth time, you told her the name of your supervisor. But instead of complaining, she would storm out of your office. At first, you thought she would leave you alone, maybe she's tired of bugging you and got the hint that you're a responsible adult with adult jobs.
But, ten minutes later, she would be barrelling in with your boss in tow. She had him in a very unsavoury grip, her hands tightly clutching his sleeve.
"Tell her!" She demanded.
"Y-you're free to go. Someone else can cover for you."
Your eyes would widen, asking if this will affect your pay.
"Not at all. Don't worry, I will have this... agreement in writing. Please e-enjoy the rest of your day." He would then quickly excuse himself from the room, avoiding Mercedes's fiery glare.
You looked at her. How could she just do that?
"My Dad owns this company, duh. Anyways, less talk, more walk." She hooked her arm around yours and dragged you out of the office.
It's as if her father was paying you just to babysit his bratty, adult daughter. You barely get to do anything for the company! You don't even know what you were hired to do in the first place anymore.
It gets extremely suffocating being her best friend, you don't know anyone around except her. The staff in her mansion is always rotating, so you wouldn't see the same face twice. You barely remembered your supervisor's names, let alone any colleagues'. All your free time is robbed by Mercedes, she saturates every single second of your life. You don't remember not seeing Mercedes's pretty face on the daily, yet it's astonishing how she would get the paparazzi on her for constantly dating a new roster of boys each season and getting into catfights with other women. Where does she find the time to do that?
It's rubbing on you, now you begin to crave a boyfriend. A 'boy toy', as Mercedes would call it.
It shouldn't be too hard, you know that you're good-looking; you have the clothes, the hair, the makeup and you can always steal from your filthy rich best friend. Your bank account is a little chubbier now thanks to Mercedes. If you just put yourself out there, you're sure boys will flock to you.
But you shouldn't tell this to Mercedes, you get the vibe that she would be jealous that you're stealing the spotlight. You aren't trying to do at all, you're just curious to know what it's like to live like Mercedes for once.
So you had to do it secretly. You would always decline her requests to join her clubbing, preferring to favor sleep over drug-fuelled parties. But recently, you would cover up your eyebags with concealer just so you could introduce yourself to the market. It goes without saying, that you're not tagging along with Mercedes, you went on your own and told not a single soul.
And it was a success! You have never received so many free drinks from men before, you even witnessed some of them fighting over you, all physical and mock-macho. It was hilarious and flattering, but the other girls would avoid you like the plague and shoot you nasty looks your way. It's much worse than you expected it to feel, you feel... rejected, alienated, and ugly. Was this how Mercedes felt? Is that why she thinks all other women are out for her blood? Well, you understand it now. And some of the boys would be really creepy towards you, it doesn't feel so good on the soul knowing the people who defended you from those weirdos are also creeps themselves. They just wanted a piece of you as if you were just a slab of meat in a cage of hungry wolves.
Though, it would be a big, fat lie to say you didn't feel free. You felt the freedom that died on the day Mercedes took you under her wing. It tasted so sweet, you wanted more and more. You were so addicted, that you took illicit substances just to keep you awake for longer, to party until the sun rises.
You were leading a double life: As Mercedes's goody-two-shoes bestie in the day, a bad girl gone wild at night. Make out with whoever you want to, drinking as much as you want and shaking yourself to the beat of the music until you drop.
You knew Mercedes was suspecting something was up, but at this point, you give no shits. This is your life, and you get to live it.
It didn't last long, though.
There was one night in particular; you remembered that they had a massive disco ball in the middle of the ceiling, reflecting every ray coming out of the projector. It was deafening, the smell of booze and sweat nauseated you but you didn't notice. The DJ was bopping his head to the rhythm and scratching records using his fingertips. The patrons were doing their own thing, some were dancing like no tomorrow, some were locking lips and some were snorting lines. It was one of those types of parties, the one where you first met Mercedes. Except this time, you successfully snuck in without your ex-friends and finally found the core of the rave.
Your hair was frazzled and you had a few wardrobe malfunctions, but why should you be bothered by that? It's not like everyone around you were dignified at all, you blend in and that's all that matters to you.
The details were fuzzy, but you remembered wondering what it was like to make out with a woman instead. Men had pretty rough lips and they smelled like crap. Why not experiment? You're here anyways, and no one is going to recognize you- whatever happens in this mansion, stays in this mansion. Plus, you already have a willing participant next to you, who has been hitting on you all night.
Later in the dark, you became bold from a mix of alcohol and whatever glowing pill you took from a giddy stranger. You pulled her aside to somewhere secluded, the two of you were clearly hot and bothered, deeply eager to explore each other's bodies. Nothing else matters in this moment, other than to satisfy each other's needs.
She pulled you in by the neck, pressing her full lips against yours. And you were correct, it was soft, fragrant, and delicious. A thousand times better than kissing stinky boys. You closed your eyes and melted into her touch, sinking deeper and deeper into the kiss. She's on top of you, straddling your hips and your hands are rubbing all over her body. The woman, who you didn't even know the name of, trailed kisses from your jaw down to your collarbones. Her slender fingers began to stray from your chin and roam downwards until it was dangerously close to the hem of your panties. You let out a muffled moan as she let her tongue taste every corner of your mouth, neither of you could speak. And neither of you wanted to, words weren't necessary.
However, your ecstasy was cut short when your lover was yanked backward. Confused, your eyes immediately shot open at the first taste of emptiness... only to witness something scaringly horrific.
"Fucking slut! How fucking dare you, how fucking dare you touch my girl!" Shrieked Mercedes as she had an iron grip on your lover's hair with one hand, and another was whaling on her non-stop. She was screaming in terror as your best friend inflicted as much damage as she could on her face. Scratches, punches, cuts, she had done it all. Mercedes pulled clumps of hair out from her victim's scalp and dodged every attempt of her to fight back. She was fast, fueled with the purest distillation of rage you have ever seen, mascara streaked down her face as she shouted until her voice was hoarse. Blood splattered onto her light-hued hair, her outfit was ruined and no doubt, a thousand dollars worth of acrylic nails were ripped from her nailbed as she threw brutal punches.
You panicked, trying to break the fight up but Mercedes was entirely immersed in anger that she didn't care that she lost her natural nails along with her false ones. She's also bleeding, scarlet painted her fingertips, knuckles, and up to her wrist as she went on tormenting your lover with more hits and pummels. At this rate, Mercedes might just kill her!
You attempted to restrain her, but she was too strong, easily overpowering you just so she could beat your lover to death. There was so much hatred simmering in her heart for this one stranger, this one woman you're sure she's never met. Why!? Why her!? Why would Mercedes attack her unprovoked!?
The fight, which was one-sided ended a few minutes later when your lover stopped moving and was covered in gruesome welts. Her eyes were swollen shut and there was blood pooling around her from her nostrils, scalp, and lips.
"You."
Growled Mercedes. She was breathing heavily and all her strands were out of place. Tears were flowing down her bloodshot eyes as she trembled.
You were speechless, you quivered in fear as you looked on. In the end, all you could mewl out was a meek "Why?"
This caused her to wail, scream, and sob. She brought her injured fingers to her head and gripped her hair, letting out all her frustrations and agony before composing herself enough to form a coherent sentence.
"Fuck you, Whore! Fuck you!" She pointed at you, her shrill voice was making your ears hurt, but you're glad she wasn't biting them off instead.
You said you didn't understand what was going on, why was she so upset.
"You were into girls all along! I-I-" She sniffled, ungracefully wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. Soiling her face with her own blood.
"I'm... in love with you..." Her voice quietened as it wavers, Mercedes choked on her own tears as she confessed. "Why didn't you tell me...?" She gasped erratically as she cried. Suddenly, there was a spike in her emotions. "Why didn't you fucking tell me?!"
You took a few more steps backward as she lost control over herself again, she had to kick your already unconscious lover with her heels to calm herself down.
"I wanted you! I..." She let out one last bloodcurdling scream before lunging at you.
You tried evading her, but she was just too experienced in this. Within seconds, her hands are tightly wrapped around your neck; Choking them until blood rushes up your head. You clawed and clawed on her hands, but nothing worked. She was determined to kill you.
She gnashed her teeth as she choked the life out of you, her salty tears rolled down her cheeks, taking some concealer along with it showing that she also had severe dark bags under her eyes.
You started seeing spots, and your thinking became redundant as your brain shuts down from the lack of oxygen. Is this it? Your death? Killed by a nepotism baby with her bare hands?
You took one last look at her face, it was filled with pain and anguish.
You regretted agreeing to come to the city.
She was yearning for you, ever since she bought you that first drink. If you knew the depth of her twisted, obsessive love she harbors for you, running for the hills would have been your immediate reaction.
Mercedes cried herself to sleep almost every night, suffering from a heartache that could never heal itself as long as she knew you were straight. She knew that you would never share her feelings, because she was taught that everyone sees lesbians as freaks of nature.
She tried distracting herself with parties, boys, booze, and coke. But nothing worked, all she ever thought about was you, you, you. She loves you and wanted nothing but to be your lovely wedded wife. Oh, how she longs for a life where it's just you and her. And no one else.
Mercedes couldn't let you go, no way in hell. That's why she would scare off anyone who got too close to you for her liking, that's why she sent out hit after hit to eliminate the competition. Because if she can't have you, no one can.
But now...
"Sit."
You frowned, refusing to budge from your spot.
Mercedes pouted, she cupped your cheeks and stared deep into your eyes.
"Bad puppies don't get treats, you don't want to be a bad puppy, do you, baby?" She cooed in a babyish tone but with heavy condescension.
You couldn't speak, because there was a ballgag between your lips. Yet, you stayed still in defiance.
She narrowed her eyes at your disobedience.
"That's how you're gonna be, huh." Mercedes lets go of your face and sticks her hand into the pocket of her bathrobe. You heard a click, and soon you felt insane vibrations between your legs, it's coming from the vibe taped to your clit!
You let out a muffled yelp as the stimulation made you buckle to your knees, and eventually, you were on the floor, helpless as your hands were tied up behind your back. Juices leaked from your slit and onto the cold, smooth floors.
"Good girl~" She praised in a sing-song voice. Mercedes happily clapped her hands together.
Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you were about to be overcome by pleasure, but... the device suddenly stopped moving. Leaving you incomplete and agitated.
You whined and whimpered, wanting your rightful climax but Mercedes only smiled at your pathetic, squirming state.
"Aww, what's that? Puppy wants to cum?" You feverishly nodded, face burning from the degradation.
"Well, only good puppies get their pussy eaten. Are you a good puppy?" She rested her hands on her knees.
You nodded and let out a muffled yell.
"Roll over."
You tried your best to do that, but the frigid floor is stimulating you further.
"Play dead."
You lay still for a few seconds, your sex is still throbbing in arousal.
"Good girl, good girl!" She praised, giggling at you.
You whimpered, having tears bead from the corners of your eyes. You need that release so badly, it's starting to hurt.
"Mmm... you're so fucking hot..." She whispered as she slowly got down to the floor, slipping her hands between your inner thighs to remove the toy. Her pupils are dilating at the sight of your naked, dripping crotch. "I can't wait to eat you out. You always taste so fucking delicious." Mercedes brushed your puffy lips with her fingers.
"Open your legs."
She didn't have to tell you twice, you granted her full access.
"Good girl..." She purred before dipping her head down to drag her wet, pink muscle over your pussy.
You writhe as she tongue fucks you, lapping up everything and not letting a drop of your sweet, sweet nectar go to waste.
You would spend almost every waking second being 'trained' by Mercedes. Her treats are sex and the overstimulation of your pussy until you faint. You never knew that she was such a nymphomaniac, or maybe she just is that for you. Mercedes just couldn't get enough of your essence, so you're subjected to such treatment.
Well, at least you don't have to work anymore. You get to eat five-star meals and sleep in a mansion, and you get to binge-watch all your favorite shows guilt-free. All you had to be was Mercedes's pet and have her eat you out whenever she wants.
Her beloved Pillow Princess; was embossed in gold, on the hot pink collar around your neck.
"Finally! I was starting to worry that I might have gone too far...haha"
You barely understood what the voice had said, your ears were ringing, and when you tried opening your eyes, it looked like everything around you was spinning. Hesitantly, you raised your hands to confirm your head was still there by how light it felt. "How are you feeling, love?" This time the voice felt clearer, it was low, sweet, and feminine. Your vision stopped spinning as much and you finally managed to make out the figure sitting next to you...it was Lynx, and you were in her room, in her bed. It would have been embarrassing and panic-inducing if it was anyone else's bedroom you had woken up in. However, you guys had regularly watched tons of movies, played games, and talked about life cozied together up on that bed, mostly when you were younger and had far more free time on your hands. The only thing bothering you was that you couldn't recall how you got there; you were at that party, then you were talking to that woman, and then...
"Here love, drink this, it will make you feel better." Lynx grabbed a glass filled with some red liquid and held it out for you to take. "Lynx, no offense dear, but how is wine supposed to help me recover from a hangover?" She giggled in response. "You really think I'm that stupid? I might have failed my chemistry exam last year, but that was just one time!" She said, faking a frown. "Ok then, enlighten me, what is it?" "It's obviously watermelon juice." You raised an eyebrow, couldn't she have just given you water instead? You knew she had an obsession with that drink, she brought a bottle of it to school every single day since you had known her; for some reason she never let you take even a little sip when you asked to try it. Too nauseous to question her choice any more than that, you took the glass from her hands and carefully brought it to your lips. "Oh, what the fuck, it tastes nothing like watermelon" "I forgot to mention I added some ibuprofen, I figured you would need it." You weren't too convinced, it wasn't just the taste, the consistency didn't add up. A part of you was telling you that something was wrong, making you nervous. Either way, despite your skepticism, you kept feeling a deep desire, a primal craving for that drink since you first smelled it. So you chugged it down, licking your lips afterward. You almost instantly regained your focus, nothing hurt anymore. Actually, you could distinctly tell apart the chirping of the birds flying outside, their wings flapping, and their hearts pumping blood through their bodies. Blood... why were you so fixated on that now?
Then memories hit you like a ton of bricks. Lynx dragging you away, kissing you, and... biting your neck?? Instinctively, your hand shot to where you recalled the sharp pain you felt last night originated, and there it was. Under your fingers, two small holes were present, they hadn't closed, and yet no blood was seeping out despite how deep into your flesh her teeth had dug into you. Her teeth, her long, needle-like sharp teeth. You looked at your best friend in horror and were met with an apologetic expression, which you didn't take too well. "You have been a fucking vampire this whole time and you never told me bitch??" She wasn't too shocked by your reaction. "Excuse me if I didn't want to scare you away, also I promised my father to never tell a human my secret so-" "But we have known each other for our entire lives! You know you can trust me with anything, you could have told me-" "I tried to drop hints but your dumbass somehow ignored all of them! Nobody fucking likes watermelon juice!" You stopped yourself from throwing a few insults at her and continuing the screaming match that would have lasted forever otherwise, knowing your best friend's temper. After taking a big, long breath, you speak again. "Ok ok, whatever, we'll talk about this later. Now to my next issue...what the hell was that? You kissed me, but also bit and sucked all my blood out right after that. You are kind of bipolar but this is too much hypocrisy even for you."
She avoided looking you in the eyes, seemingly embarrassed. "Yeah, about that. I was actually pretty drunk and I wasn't able to think straight...that horribly worsened after I saw you with her." The irritation in her voice when she mentioned the woman at the bar was difficult to ignore. "That wasn't something I had planned to happen this soon. I had a whole ceremony in mind for the day I would have finally turned you into a vampire: a creepy abandoned church, the moon high in the sky, a camera recording the moment so I could watch it later, our servants playing the violin in the background for a solemn atmospheric feel... all that just went out of the window because of a stupid party night." Her cheery voice and dreamy eyes, as she spoke about the ceremony, dipped back down and lost their spark at the last sentence. "Huh, wait. Does that mean I'm a vampire now?? Why didn't you tell me that from the start!" She stared at you with a deadpanned, slightly concerned face. "Darling, sweety, love of my life, I assumed you had already figured that out. I find your human stupidity cute but this kind of concerns me."
Overall, she was glad you had taken the whole vampire thing well. She had prepared a whole speech to ease you into accepting the idea but it revealed itself unnecessary. Unfortunately, she did have some other news she knew you wouldn't appreciate. "So, how am I supposed to walk to school now? Do you have to wear special sunscreen every day or is the whole burning under the sun thing a myth?" Her reaction perplexed you, she looked very much amused by your question, but your now heightened senses helped you easily pick up on other things you were unaware of before such as the aura of malice surrounding her and...something else you couldn't make out. "Oh no no dear, you won't be going anywhere for quite a while. You see, I'm still unsure if I can trust you keeping shut about this, what if I lose sight of you again? You're such a precious thing, you could get hurt out here if you don't know how to navigate with your new body." It always creeped you out how she would so easily subtly switch her tone in the middle of a conversation, she went from sweet to threatening to lock you up in an instant. "But I still need to go to college, I have an exam next week and..." "Love, I don't think you fully understand the situation you are in. Do you know how the spread of the vampirism curse works?" You shook your head. "Since I was the one that turned you, you are under my control, I am basically your master. If I wanted I could turn you into one of my family's many servants, use you as a maid, and you wouldn't even get a say in the matter. You are bound to follow every command I give you from now on." The situation took a dark turn really fast, but you couldn't understand why, why was she talking to you like this? "But you would never do something like that to me...right? Lynx?"
"It all depends on the answer to my next question. Do you love me?" Well, that was easy, you thought.
Unfortunately for you, no matter what your answer was going to be, she didn't need to restrain herself anymore now that you had no way to run. Why would she let you roam around free when you could sit obediently in her lap, where no one would ever dare harm you? Why go to school and distract yourself with others when she was all you needed from now on? You didn't need a degree or a job, she was basically royalty amongst vampires, money was never going to be an issue. Of course, she wouldn't actually turn you into a maid, she had decided on a far better fate for you.
You were destined to be her spouse, you were going to be tied to her for the rest of your eternal lives. Refusal wasn't an option, a no wouldn't be accepted, you are her most prized possession and resistance is futile.
May i request a lynx X an already partially conditioned reader (gender neutral preferably)?
Of course! I am kind of excited, this is the first request I get to write. :D Hope you'll like it!
An obedient pet
Lynx Andromeda (Yandere OC) x gn!reader
TW. general yandere behavior, possessive behavior, manipulation, gaslighting, threats.
You wouldn't describe yourself as a pushover, you knew how to stand your ground when it came to anyone, be it a friend or a professor. But there was something in her voice, in the way she imposed herself that enchanted you, or more accurately, conditioned your mind into bending down at her will, allowing her to guide your thoughts as she pleased.
It started with you losing touch with any friend you would hang out with the most often. Lynx would remind you that you had already made plans with her whenever you tried to organize a night out with them. "What do you mean you don't remember us talking about going to the cinema today? You were the one that proposed it! Have you been getting enough sleep, love? You keep forgetting our dates. Or is it because you don't care enough to spend time with me to remember?" Of course you cared! Your friends kept pointing out how this kept happening almost every time. But she obviously would never lie to you about stuff like this, you just had a hard time remembering your plans.
You also couldn't remember when she started referring to your hangouts as 'dates', you questioned her about it but kept getting evasive answers until you gave up. "Hmmm? Isn't that what they're called?" "Best friends date all the time!." "Date, going out together, honeymoon, they're all the same thing!"
It became obvious that something was wrong when people stopped inviting you out with them and even went out of their way to avoid you at school. Well, not everyone stopped, Lynx and her close friends were still there for you. You would always be encouraged to meet them in the corridors after every period and sit with them in the dining hall.
It was a very drastic change, it's not like you were forced to follow them everywhere, but you had no one else to go to. You suspected that someone must have spread rumors about you or there was something wrong with you that inevitably pushed everyone away. You felt grateful to Lynx for always sticking by your side, making you feel welcome in your friend group, but you also wanted to get your social life back in your control.
The problem was that she wouldn't let you. It felt like there was an invisible string tying you to her if you strove too far away to connect with anyone else. It was impossible to talk to new people at parties when she was always there to pull you away. "Come on! We are about to start a game of beer pong, you have to at least come to watch me win!" You were starting to get sick of it. It...it was like she was doing it on purpose! You loved being with her of course, she was your best friend, but you should also be allowed to have friendships outside of her and her group! Just as planned, nothing you said or did helped the situation.
"Are you saying we are not good enough company for you? Must I remind you how your old friends abandoned you?" "Do you want to risk the heartbreak of being rejected again?" "..." "Exactly, I didn't think so."
Every fight left you more hopeless than the previous. Lynx would comfort you afterward, sweet words leaving her lips like honey, but in reality, it was closer to venom. "You don't need to risk getting hurt again, all you need is here." "I'm here for you and always will be. You're mine." "Huh, what was that.?" "Nothing, sweety <3"
Eventually, you found yourself always clinging to her. Wherever she was, you were there with her. You became like a puppy, believing whatever your owner told you, never suspecting any ill from them. She was always so nice to you, after all, always locking arms with you whenever she was close, never letting you leave her sight. She would buy you gifts, praise you, and pet you whenever you behaved the way she wanted you to.
You were never left alone, you were always shown affection and support. Life was good, why would you ever desire anything different?
"I love you, my dear. See how everything is better when you're with me? Wouldn't you love for it to last longer, perhaps forever?"
From that moment forward, any hope for your life to go back to normality becomes useless and then, lost.
âY/n this is insane! Canât you see that sheâs crazy?!â Coraline yelled at you from inside the dusty room while the three ghosts watched, their mouths had been sewn shut long ago, so they werenât able to intervene. You stood there, feeling like you wanted to cry, this âother motherâ was amazing, your real parents never showed much affection, going far enough that it could be Called neglect, so when your other mother held you in her lap, and braided your hair, and gave you warm hugs, and kisses on the cheeks, you felt happy. Your other father was just as amazing, but still, their treatment of you felt similar to one of a babyâs, always treating you like a young child who canât think for themselves. Coraline noticed this far earlier, while you remained happy and oblivious, the buttons for eyes were the last straw for her.
âI know okay! I just, sheâs so nice, I donât even know what to think anymore, you know what it feels like to actually have parents⌠I don't, my entire life Iâve been shoved in a little blue house down the stairs and told âdon't disappoint usâ by my parents! I just want to feel loved⌠itâs just, itâs just not fairâ you spoke, lip quivering, you couldnât even remember the last time you allowed yourself to cry, you werenât supposed to love the âother parentsâ but you did, they were the parents you never had, and you just had to live them. At this point silent tears were trailing down your cheeks, Coraline remained fuming at you, not even sparing a moment to acknowledge the two small black buttons that seemed to appear out of nowhere, peeking through the wall.
âThat doesnât matter, do you really want tiny little needles poking in and out of your eyeballs? Do you really want to leave your real parents behind? Do you want me to leave you behind?â She seethed, you shook your head, letting out a few small whimpers and sobs under your breath, you hated that she was right, you hated it so much, you couldnât just leave everything in the real world for this parallel universe void of life, you should want to back there right? where no one cared about you, where no one loved you, where you were nothing.
âCoraline? Is that any way to speak to your friend?â A soft voice rang from behind your form, the few lost souls floating in the room ten up, showering to the far corners where the other mother couldnât see them, then you felt warm hands engulf your waist, pulling you closer to the womenâs chest, you subconsciously leave into her warmth, she glared down at Coraline, stoking your head lovingly. In reality, she hadnât wanted for you to get pushed down here, but Coraline was getting in the way, and you just got caught in the crossfire, she did make sure that your landing was softer though, while Coraline's was harsh.
âYou donât get to tell us what to do, you arenât her mother.â Coraline breathed out, slimming her eyes into a harsh stare at the woman in whose chest you were sobbing into. One moment, you were in the cold cellar-like room, the next, you were back in the baby pink room that was yours in this place, your true room was a boring white, with a ritzy mattress in the middle, and a small cabinet that served as a closet. Although you didnât particularly like the color pink, it was nice to know that someone cared enough to bring true colors into your life. The other mother continued her embrace, picking up and cradling your head against her shoulder, you felt a wave of drowsiness overtake your senses, it hit you like a pound of bricks, and you squeezed the back of the womenâs shirt to see if you were dreaming or not, her hold just felt so⌠comforting.
âWas she mean to you darling? Donât you worry your little head about it, shhhhhh, just fall asleep, mother will take care of everything.â She spoke, bouncing slightly up and down with each step she took towards the large bed that was displayed in the center of the room. You barely muttered a small âwaitâ before falling asleep in her arms. She tenderly placed your body under the silky sheets, wrapping you up with the soft fabric and placing a small pig plushy next to you, keeping an eye on her preciousâs little daughter while she tended to some âhouseworkâ.
The second you went unconscious you slipped into a weird dream, you were walking on a thin sheet of water, in a pitch dark room, it was so cold like someone had dunked you in a bucket of ice, you stared out into the nothingness, gradually growing more anxious, where are you?
âHELLO! IS ANYBODY OUT THERE!â You screamed, only to be greeted by the echo of your own words, nothing more, nothing less. You started to swivel around in a moment of panic, having just about no idea what could happen to you in this dark abyss. That was until you dek the floor below you disappear, and you popped into existence into a completely different place, it was a medium sized room, the layout was similar to a grocery store, multiple shelves made the room feel smaller, what was odd about it, was that all the shelves were packed with hundreds of snowglobes. You admired the pretty glass structures as you slowly walked down the aisles, each had a completely different design, with little figures inside, you found it adorable, ogling at the pretty things. That was until you heard quiet clicking of heels, and your other mother came into view.
âThere you go, now donât be rude to me! You are a very lucky girl that Iâm even letting you live, you should know much better than to taint my daughter's mind with your filthy voice, oh you make such a great addition to my collection! Enjoy your stay, foreverâ she chimed, you were positive that she couldnât see you, mainly because you were standing frozen directly in front of her, and she hadnât acknowledged you. At least you werenât freezing anymore! You tiptoed closer to the snowglobe that was just placed among the collections, wondering why your mother was so enthusiastic about it. And saw nothing special about it, other than the bright yellow raincoat that adorned the figurine.
you remained completely unaware. of the thousands of button eyes that watched you from the globes, begging to be shattered, and set free.
âPrettyâ you muttered to yourself before the world faded again, and you were back into your body, snuggled up under the covers, clutching the pig plushy close to your chest, you felt awake, but also very asleep, forgetting your entire dream the moment your eyes opened, slightly surprised to see that you were still in the pink room, in the other house. You could hear the feint sound of your bedroom door opening, the creak rang through the room. And the other mother smiled softly at your lovable position, cooing under her breath, trying not to be too loud and wake you up.
âDarling, we have to get up now, oh I know I know your still tired, but itâs dinner time, you canât stay in bed all night, little sleepyhead, my little sleepyhead.â She spoke, rubbing your shoulder while you groaned at the sudden speaking and noise. You didn't know how long that dream lasted, but you did know that it was odd, so odd that in fact, it made up your mind for you about the whole button eyes thing.
âUhm- Mother? I-Iâm sorry, but I- I donât want to put buttons in my eyes.â You muttered, awaiting a harsh reaction, but instead, getting another one of her sweet smiles, she picked you up again and sat you in her lap, your small frame getting engulfed by hers.
âOh is that what you were worrying so hard about? Donât worry honey, you never were going to have to sow buttons in your eyes, it was just to see if I could trust you, and I know that I can trust you now.â She stated, calmly, a little too calmly. So⌠she lied? You got in a fight with your best friend because she wanted to âsee if she could trust youâ?
âOh- okay, where coralline though? Can I talk to her? Please, mother?â You started begging after seeing her stoic expression, why did you want to see her? Was she not good enough for you? Coralline was mean to you, she hurt her little girl! Why did you want to see her? Weâre you going to leave your mother for a snobby brat? She tightened her hold on you, pressing you closer to her, whispering little âshhâ or âstay with meâ in your ear, for some reason, you couldn't place what Coraline's face looked like, even though you had seen her just earlier, any memories of her were slowly dimming, fuzzy spots started appearing in any of those memories, and like turning of a staticky tv, they disappeared. You couldnât even remember the name âcorallineâ after a few minutes of being cradled in this womenâs lap.
âCmon darling, letâs go eat dinner now, your father made it this time, Iâm surprised he hasn't burn down the kitchen!â She spoke, getting a few sleepy giggles out of you. After helping you down the stairs she led you to the dining room, where you went on and sat at the large table next to your two parents. And so, you forgot about your ârealâ world, staying young forever here, even growing younger and smaller as time went on, forgetting about coralline, and your parents, and the small door, you lived your life happy, dressed in frilly pink clothing, learning to lobe your mother as she grew more obsessed with you, she got what she wanted in the end
Oh, oh, oh! Yandere virus, but it one day coming into school, the girls who normally bully you are acting strange. When you see them in the hallway, you are expected to be laughed at or shoves to the ground. However, you didn't expect to be shoved against the wall as they stare you down with a dangerous and lustful glint in their eye, telling you about all the plans they have in store for you. They force you to wear matching clothes and make sure everyone knows who you belong to and not to even try anything. Maybe you're forced to live in the house. Bonus if the other hold you down as the ring leader eats you out, as the others tell you how cute you are uwu
âAh ah ah. You arenât going anywhereâ A voice chirps in your ear. You wince, sighing as the three surround you once again as class is dismissed and everyone heads to the dorms for the evening. Honestly, if you were perhaps a bit stronger, a bit less self conscious, you might spit in their faces and make a run for it. Sadly, you arenât some badass (and admittedly, one dimensional) character and are frozen in place as they wait for the others to leave.Â
They don't intervene. They know better. These young women have power, wealth, and beauty in their arsenal, and aren't afraid to use it to get what they want, and to silence anyone who complains. Phoebe, Sadie, and Naomi, all from powerful families who more or less run this college and the town. You don't doubt they paid the administrators and dean to get into this place, while you had to work hard and prove yourself.Â
None of that matters at the moment. Currently, Phoebe was twirling her fingers in your hair like you two were close friends or even dating, smiling almost wickedly at you as her eyes, usually hazel, now with an odd pink ring, stare at you like you were some prey about to be eaten and devoured. Usually they just shove you around and make fun of your clothes, but todayâŚSomething's off. Very very off.Â
âIsnât she so cute you guys?â She says, sickly sweet, you want to say mocking but no, it's like thereâs something more flirtatious with it. âOh definitely, I just want to sink my teeth in her, you know? Make her whimperâ Naomi adds on, hand to her cheek as she stares at you like one would a puppy being precious. Oh god hearing that made you think they were about to hurt you or humiliate you in some way.Â
Sadie just sighs, not in your direction, looking over her shoulder to make sure the halls were clear, and once they were truly empty of everyone else, she made sure the grip on your wrists were tighter. âListen up. We have some new rules set in place, and you, adorably obedient as you are, are going to follow themâ. Oh wow. The audacity. Then again you never really put up a fight so, are they really wrong? What other choice did you have anyway? If they wanted to, they could make your family kicked out of town and their jobs nonexistent. Itâs best to just grit your teeth as best you can.Â
While you tried to listen, Phoebe made sure she got closer, her hand on you as well, but more exploring, sliding up and down your sleeve and trying to dip her fingers into the hem to feel your wrist, dragging them up and down softly as Sadie began to speak again. âYouâre ours. Simple as that. No more avoiding the lobby when weâre there, no more trying to get little study dates away from the school library, no more trying to hide from usâ.
âI'm sorry what-â
âAh ah, sheâs not finished cutieâ Naomi says with a gentle touch slowly sliding to your waist, her cold fingertips acting like they wanted to slide under your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin, her brown eyes also having that odd pink ring in her iris. âGo on Sadie, sheâll be good and listen. She always isâÂ
You felt your cheeks grow impossibly hot, words failing you as all three of these girls began to more or less feel you up and tell you thatâŚThat you were theirs? Whatever that could mean? Sadie just sighs, more playful this time as she cups your cheek and makes you look at her, the same weird coloration in her eyes. âYouâre ours. No more private study dates, no more drabby clothes, no more avoiding food when weâre in the commons or cafeteria, just a lot more rules and a lot more dress code for you. Tsk, I canât tell if I want you in a skirt, or if I'd stab any bastard whoâd look at you when you wear one. Maybe some cute pants? Ugh theyâd still lay their eyes on you either way, makes me want to just call mom and have the banks foreclose their housesâ.Â
âPlease Donât-â
âAh ah, donât even try it. Youâre ours, if we want to punish people for looking at our puppy, we willâ Phoebe comments, her fingers moving to hold your hand and give the top of it a gentle kiss. âSpeaking of puppyâ Naomi mentions, nodding her head towards the others, and before you can blink youâre turned over, face to the wall. You hear Sadie murmur something as she rummages through her bag for a moment, and you feel her hands slide around your throat before something clicks behind your head, and your eyes widen in horror.
âThere we go! I made sure it wouldnât be too tight, the guy who made it for me was such an artist about it, I love it! If he wouldâve said no, you know Iâd have his business ruinedâ She mentions casually, getting a few soft giggles in agreement.Â
âHere sweetie! Have a look at how cute you are when you show that you belong to usâ Naomi says, handing you her phone as a mirror. You feel weak and shaky as your fingers come up to touch the bright pastel pink leather, a metal heart in the center pressing against your throat. You reach around to feel the back and feel a harsh shock to your fingers, making you yelp.Â
âOh, sweetheart, don't try and take it off! It was so expensive but I got a cute one to work as a shock collar. Shower safe but anytime you take one, one or all of us will be with you, so you won't have to worry about taking it off yourself. Weâll talk more about the rules later in our dormâ.
You shiver, unable to think of how to talk. What in the fuck could you even say? You just had a designer shock collar put on you by your bullies! Who are now acting like you were their chew toy or pet no less. âO-our dorm?â.
Phoebe nods, gently stroking your hair âYeah, duh! How else will we keep a better eye on you? Cameras are fine and all but I prefer to make sure youâre warm with one of us sharing a bed with you. Plus, itâs easier to kiss you good morning fasterâ.
âK-Kiss?!â You almost shriek, only for Naomi to softly hush you with a finger to your lips. âNow now, donât get loud! We donât need that just yetâ. She pouts, hearing her phone going off and checking the time. âWell, we have to split for now, I have a dinner with mom and dad. You two take her to the dorm and tell me how she acts! Don't do anything more pretty please? We said weâd share herâ.Â
You don't get much out before Naomi heads off, Phoebe and Sadie gripping your arms a bit too firmly to lead you, talking back and forth like you werenât making a practical death march down to their dorm room.Â
Oh God whatâs going to happen once that door is shut?
-Mommabean (Hiya! Sorry for lack of smut but I am proud I wrote this much at least lol. If you beans want i can do a part two! Wanted to try and flesh this out before anything too intense ya know? Anyway I hope you like! Lemme know if you do!)